


At Fault

by angtious



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Comedy, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-04-22 17:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22194595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angtious/pseuds/angtious
Summary: Seraphina "Finn" Trevelyan has never believed in destiny. Forced to believe the only future she would have would be that of marriage, she found herself jumping at the opportunity at a new way of life. Losing all she had deemed important to her, she fights the battles of loss and a dark past - the only truth she is unwilling to tell.Cullen Stanton Rutherford has found himself with a new responsibility, one he is unsure he is able to complete. However, after seeing the impossible in one singular person, he finds himself pushing above and beyond to set things right, hoping to become the man he once dreamed of being.*This is a slowburn fic that will plenty of smut, fluff, and angst. This is currently in the works and will have plenty of changes along the way!*
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford & Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford/Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Finn

“Who is she?” Cullen asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Josephine stood by his side, eyes intently reading over a paper that lay on her tablet, Leliana perched her eyes upward, face tilted down. “Lady Seraphina May Trevelyan,” Leliana spoke, dragging her finger across the map, tapping a location within the Free Marches, “Daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick, heir as head of the household,” She continued tracing her fingers along the map, pointing out the route of her journey, speaking of her intents.

“We’re unsure for her reason to attend the Conclave, I have received information, however, that she had been traveling in a fairly large pack, from what we can assume was a mercenary group,” Leliana stopped her finger, embracing both her palms on the table in which the map had been placed upon, “We have reason to believe she was a member of the Ostwick Outlaws, hired as extra muscle,” Cullen let his arms cross, confusion embroiling him. “Why would a noble be consorting with mercenaries? What else do we know of her?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, exhaustion ensuing.

“Originally, her younger brother was to be the next head of Ostwick, but according to our reports, he passed just a year ago. Her father, as I stated before, is Bann Ethor Trevelyan, her mother was Lady Aemilia June Trevelyan, passed away during the First Battle of Kirkwall,” Leliana began filing her fingers through a pile of reports, Josephine following suite, “We lack information about her, it seems she lived a fairly shut-in life, so her connection to the mercenary gang is… perplexing,” Josephine interrupted, her Antivan accent shining through her words, “We are reasonably well educated on her family; apparently her mother was of Kirkwall nobility, her sister a mage within it’s Circle. Currently, her name and whereabouts are unknown to us, “ Leliana sighed, most likely due to the lack of information she was able to obtain, being as she _was_ the spymaster, the limited amount of knowledge she had left her uneasy.

“So, she’s either a high ranked Lady or a possible master of disguise?” Josephine asked as she wrote notes of their current council, “A master of disguise? She’s just a woman,” Cullen laughed, it was not unknown for women to have skills such as that, but Cullen had found it hard to believe that a young lady, a noble, like her would be so involved with a ragtag team of mercenaries. He had seen her only briefly amongst the battlefield, quick and sly with a bow, even quicker with daggers. He had been impressed with how easily she could evade attacks, squirm her body around her targets with such ease. The more he thought about her and her combative skills, the more he toyed that the idea was possible, however slim. “How would a young lady such as herself, who lived a shut-in life, get involved with the underworld in any way?” Cullen asked, still unable to fully grasp the idea.

“Well, she should awake at any moment, Commander, I’m sure we can ask her ourselves,” Leliana said, placing her hands behind her back. They continued discussing the events of the past few days. The Temple of Sacred Ashes had exploded, that was known, but they had not known why. Of the thousands to attend, only Seraphina, a young girl, survived. Cullen’s forces had found her as she emerged from a rift, her clothing tattered. As she escaped the Fade, her body collapsed to the ground. She had shown no proof of being the cause, except for her survival.

The girl had been out for hours after her discovery; during that time, Cassandra and Cullen forced scouts and soldiers through the mountains, slaying demons as they enter their world in hefty amounts. The sky had burst with an engulfing green flame, swirling into a never-ending abyss. The sight of it left Cullen uneasy; the fact that anyone survived was perplexing.

Now, she had been sleeping for two days, with no signs of improvement. Solas, along with Adan, had kept a close watch on her, Solas would study the mark upon her hand, watch the changes, which he had seen none of. Adan would force-feed her liquids to keep her vitals steady.

Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine waited with impatience as the time past; they would have gone forward without her if it not for her newfound title as the Herald of Andraste. She was now a symbol of hope, something that they sorely needed in times like these.

* * *

Seraphina awoke in a flash, her body drenched with sweat, her gray-brown hair matted to her forehead. Her body swayed with confusion, her whereabouts were unknown, the scent unfamiliar. She could not recall the time of day or the thoughts in her own head. She squeezed her eyes shut and began counting to herself in the hopes of regaining control until a wooden clash echoed within the cabin. Seraphina’s body shot up, her green eyes flashing to the source.

A frail elven woman stood, crunched over, swaying as she apologized, “I didn’t know you were awake; I swear!” She blurted out, her eyes filled with fear, “I – I’m sorry?” Seraphina said, shaking her head, “They… They say you saved us! The Breach, it’s stopped growing, I only came to deliver medicinal for Adan, but now that you’re awake!” The elf stood up, gripping a small piece of paper out of the pocket of her dark brown trousers, “Lady Cassandra wished to speak to you, she said to meet within the Chantry,” The girl bowed her head gently, leaving the room.

Seraphina let her body collapse to the pillow below her, her mind swirling. _What the fuck did I get myself into? _She thought, rubbing her eyes, she could hardly remember the events that led her here, everything had been a mess.

She could remember the tall and brooding woman, Cassandra, as the elf stated. A woman with olive skin and a thick Nevarren accent, who was not all too happy with Seraphina’s survival. She had remembered the elven apostate, and witty dwarf, whom of which she noted would get along with her very well. The rest had been a blur, each person she had met merged together like swirling paint, the rush and adrenaline blurring out their faces and voices. She could still feel the heat of the Breach dancing upon her skin, the ominous green swirling above her head, a sight which made her nauseous. She remembered the dread she learned upon being the only survivor – her gang – nay, her _friends_ – had died, along with her childhood friend, Lonnie’s father.

She maneuvered her legs over the side of her bed, gently perching her body up. A vanity sat just across, revealing her poorly reflection. Her skin was charred with the ashes of the Temple, smears of black and dark red covered her body. A new scar upon her face, stitched upon her cheek. Her hair tied back in a messy attempt of a pony-tail. She had little to no clothing on at all, only that of a nightshift that lay above layers of bandages wrapped around her bosom and thighs. As her eyes continued to graze across the room, she noticed a small tub of water which she could only assume was to be used to wash up, and so she did.

She spent over an hour, scrubbing her skin until it turned red and felt numb. Her body was scattered with new bruises and cuts that tickled her skin. She had not minded the sight of scars, as she adorned plenty of her calloused skin, and to some extent, she had been proud of these newfound scars, ones she had earned herself, and not at the affliction of another. As she continued to wash, the water within became darkened black, the smell of burnt stone and flesh engulfed within her nose. Once she was done bathing, she began tying her hair into a braid that ran down her spine, while wet it looked to be closer to deep chestnut color, gentle waves running along the edges of her face. She decided to wear something comfortable, as her body ached from the days before, each movement made her feel like her body was creaking. She was able to find a plain pair of grey trousers and a dark red tunic.

She made double checks on her appearance, hoping to look somewhat presentable, and went on her way.

* * *

Her presence made them all uneasy. They had not known what to make of her, she had been relatively silent through most of their journey to close the Breach, and their lack of information on her made it harder for them to make any conclusions on her personality.

Cullen had noted her beauty from the start. When they had met on the field, she was covered in ashes, her hair thrown in a messy lopsided updo, blood and ash smeared all over her body and clothes. Now, he could see the definition in her face. Her cheeks were slim, defining the shape of her broadened jaw and pointy chin, her eyes shaped like almonds, bright emerald green. Even her hair was beautiful, a sea of silk twisted into a long braid that fell down to her mid-back, tender pieces of hair too short to fit within the braid forming around her face. Her lips, while not overly broad, were not small. Gently agape, revealing her perfectly straight teeth, her top lip holding almost no shape at all, only that of a gentle arch. Freckles adorned her gently pink cheeks, her nose, _Maker_, even her delicate chin.

He could feel the eyes of Leliana and Josephine gazing into him with much intent, his cheeks warming as he cleared his throat, prompting Cassandra to speak. “Lady Seraphina meet the Inquisition advisors,” She said, gesturing towards each of them, Seraphina promptly bowing her head in response. “As You very well know, the Breach remains, and you – our only chance of closing it,” She continued, her hips swaying as she switched her stance from foot to foot. “You have become a symbol of hope to the people – The Herald of Andraste – which prompts our request,” Cassandra began walking across the room, lifting a hefty book, a symbol of a burning eye adorned on a blade, “We urge you to join us. We hope that in time we can stabilize the situation amongst the templars and mages within Thedas – as well as close the Breach entirely,”

“However, there are many steps we need to take to continue our progress against the Breach, which involve you and the mark you so eloquently adorn,” Leliana added, pointing to Seraphina’s hand which had been dormant, although she could feel the crackling within her veins even still. “You do have the right to refuse; however we implore you –“

“I’ll do it,” Seraphina quipped, her face blank. The rest of the room fell silent, their eyes intent on understanding what had just happened, “You’ll do it?” Cassandra asked, her tone slightly shocked; Seraphina nodded, smiling gently, “I’ll help, no questions asked.” Cassandra’s reaction was not what any of them had suspected, instead of a slight smirk – which was the most they had ever seen her able to smile – she frowned, almost in disbelief or disappointment.

“Very well, before we get started, we have a few…general questions for you,” Josephine said to steer their conversation before Cassandra could retaliate. “We have come to understand you are the heir of house Ostwick, but we have seen… delicate information regarding a connection with a mercenary guild named the ‘Ostwick Outlaws,’” She continued, her eyes darting between Leliana and Seraphina.

Seraphina sighed lightly, her smile still prominent, “Ah,” She replied, rubbing her feet into the ground. “That information is not wrong, I can say clearly and honestly that I was a member of their mercenary guild,” Leliana stood with interest, almost on the tips of her toes as Seraphina continued talking, “Our group had been hired as extra muscle in case of conflict between the templars and mages.”

“I’m sure if you know that information, you also know that I was not to be the next head of my family. I had no real… use to my family, so I had joined their guild a year before the Conclave,” She stood up straight, rubbing her hands together as she spoke, “If my brother had not passed, I would have happily left Ostwick at a moments notice, but alas, I had duties to attend to.”

“That is – surprisingly honest of you, Lady Seraphina,” Josephine said, her delicate voice falling to almost silence. “I have agreed to join your ranks – I believe that includes me telling you, the Inquisition’s leaders, the truth,” She replied, gently smiling.

“Very well – We also must ask, do you wish us to contact anyone on your whereabouts – your survival?” Josephine intervened, getting herself ready to write a list of names. “You may write to my father if you wish, although I doubt he will have any concerns,” Seraphina said coldly, her eyes beginning to fill with anger, “I would also like you to inform Lonnie – Leonard Reiter – of the status of the Outlaws, as well as my survival. Please be delicate with the news, his father was among those lost,” She sighed, the anger from her eyes ceasing as they filled with sorrow.

“I will inform them in your name, Lady Seraphina. If there is nothing else?” Josephine responded, gently bowing her head. Seraphina turned on her heel to leave, before spinning around and uttering one final request.

“Please, call me Finn.” She smiled, turning once again to leave the Chantry.


	2. The Hinterlands

Finn had not slept in days. The ride to the Hinterlands was long and tireless, Cassandra had insisted on taking as little stops as possible; their mission was of the utmost importance. Finn had not seen how, however, as all they were to do was to speak to a Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle in hopes of gaining insight into the Chantry. Varric had assured her that there was always something more to these expeditions no matter the primary cause; war had broken out amongst the Templars and rebel mages, something that the Inquisition must address. She had understood the Inquisitions purpose, there was no doubt, but when she willing joined, she did not expect to be given the responsibility they had given her. The only thing identifying her as necessary was the magic upon her hand, a mark of which made the veins in her palm course green and amplified pain at any moment.

She had noticed the pain worsen the closer they were to any fade rifts. Her hand would crackle with unfamiliar electricity, her veins throbbing, Solas had reminded her it was normal, as the power of these fade rifts are of immense strength, but it was not an enjoyable feeling. The only person who made their journeys bearable was Varric; he had become a good friend within these past few weeks. They had shared a similar taste of humor, always hoping to see the brighter sense of things with a good joke or sarcastic remark. Cassandra had not been pleased with Finn’s choice of companion; she had disliked the dwarf immensely, no doubt because of the very humor Finn had enjoyed.

It had been weeks since the events of the Conclave; she had still not believed it to be true. She would spend her time with Varric making jokes as to how this was all a bad dream, but at the end of the day, their sighs and deep breaths released the truth of the matter. She was not scared but felt ill-prepared for such an endeavor; she had only learned so much as the locked away heir of Ostwick, although only for a short period. Varric would sense the anxieties within Finn, and go out of his way to make things right. He would tell her stories of the Inquisition Leaders, stories that made her want to get to know them more, some making her wish to avoid them. She had made a point to ask to read his books upon their return to Haven, hoping there would be a large enough section within the small library.

She could feel the awkwardness in the air as dusk rolled in, soon they would make camp, all to Cassandra’s dismay – who would travel all day and night if she could. Solas had slowed his pace next to Finn, paying close attention to her detail. She had noticed his fascination in the way she fought, noticed the stares that she was unsure of being approval or displeasure. As he slowed, he grasped tightly onto his mount.

“Does it hurt?” He spoke, his head inching towards curiosity, “The Mark, I mean, does it trouble you?” His face began to show more signs of concern, although subtle. “I suppose. I’m still getting used to it. The pain has subsided since we stabilized the Breach, but… It is still not comforting to have.” Finn said, her right hand gripping the straps of her mount, the other inches from her face as she observed the flowing green veins. “Understandably so, it’s quite the burden to carry, lethallin.”

She had responded to him in the best elven she could, his eyebrows raising, “I’m surprised a noble like you would know even a hint of elven,” He said, turning his face in front of him, “Dalish clans would visit outside the city limits, I found myself quite fond with them actually, and when you’re forced to spend most of your life locked away in a manor with almost all the books in the world, you learn a trick or two to escape,” She replied, slightly laughing. “I’m sure a large estate such as yours had many things to do, no?” He replied, Finn had hated the questions; while she had been honest with the Inquisition and its leaders, she did not feel the need to delve into a deep life story. “It was quite dull, actually. I had thoroughly enjoyed the company of the lowborn children rather than that of my family, if I'm honest,” Solas’s eyebrows raised at her statement, only muttering a simple _I see_ before slowing his pace back behind her.

Solas had been quiet the rest of the way, as for the others, not as much. Varric had made plenty of attempts to speak with Cassandra, each effort to be shut down by a dull noise of disgust, something Varric seemed to enjoy. Each time he attempted, he would turn his head toward Finn and grin wildly, each attempt making her giggle. Cassandra’s cheeks had reddened in anger, and as Varric made his final attempt to provoke the Seeker, his results were what he wanted. She had snapped her tongue at the dwarf, as well as the rest of them. Solas glanced Finn’s way and began to hide his smile, a light chuckle releasing from him. Finn said nothing, and as Cassandra began huffing her dismay, she had also started setting up camp. This seemed to please Varric as if he knew his actions would ensure their stop for rest.

* * *

Hours had passed, and the midnight air clung around them. They lay upon a grassy plain, hidden amongst a cluster of rocks and trees, all of which divided above them, leaving an opening to view the stars above. Their makeshift tents were hung with sturdy sticks and held down by any crates they carried. Their bedrolls rolled around the fire, although Solas made apparent effort to place his as far away from them as possible. Varric put his closest to Finn, he sat in a crisscrossed manner upon his bedroll, his fingers entwined with a stick of graphite as he sloppily filled pages upon pages in a worn-down leather book.

“Recording our journeys for the mysterious spymaster?” Finn quipped, sitting down beside him on her bedroll, running her fingers through the fur lining. Varric had not lifted his head, and continued to scribble words upon words, “More for myself, never know what this story will entail, I want to capture it all.” Finn smiled; it was nice to know that their efforts were to be recorded, maybe one-day others would see their passion, understand their cause. She had found herself peaking as he continued to fill the pages, each time he would maneuver himself, so she was unable to see. Soon she snatched the book from his surprisingly large hands, his graphite causing a massive streak across the pages.

She began reading aloud as Varric sat there, a deep chuckle releasing from within.

“Their journey began with the survival of the _alluring_ human rogue,” Finn’s voiced teased the comment of herself, her cheeks quickly blushing, “A girl of noble birth with exceeding combat skills. Those who had found her amongst the ashes of the Conclave noted her beauty, noted her ashy hair and the sea of freckles amongst her face,” Finn chuckled and glanced at Varric, who simply shrugged his shoulders as he tilted his head, “Are you a _romantic_, Varric?” Finn laughed, catching Cassandra’s attention, her eyes lightened brightly, a rare sight to see of the Seeker. Varric lay back, mouthing along with the words as Finn continued to read; he had written of their slight victory of closing the most significant rift in the Conclave, he had written of the Inquisition Leader’s unease as she slept for many days. Still, he made an immense account and focus on the acts of Commander Cullen, much to her surprise. The story had ended with where they were now, amongst the stars in the Hinterland wilds, she had wanted more.

Finn handed the book back to Varric, his hands grasping lightly onto the closed book. “Before you ask, yes, I plan to dabble in romance for this novelization. We may as well give the Herald a shot of happiness before all doom breaks loose,” Solas chuckled, nodding his head in agreement, Cassandra sat wide-eyed, legs crossed, waiting for more, she had thoroughly enjoyed it.

Finn placed her head upon the thin feather pillow atop her bedroll, sighing deeply, “I’d love to hear more.” She said, hoping for him to write their future, for him to tell her, and so he did; he began writing once again, writing the story of the Herald of Andraste. He said the story of her unmatched heroism and bravery, soon leading to Finn dosing into the most profound slumber she had since the very beginning of their damnation.

* * *

The morning after their long night of stories and wonder was a dreadful one. Cassandra had ensured that everyone had been awakened by dawn; Her shortly styled hair perfect as always, untouched by her slumber. Finn had not been given such a luxury. Her tidy braid from the day before became a tangled mess, the silk ribbon holding it all together intertwined with her long brown locks, the heat and humidity causing it to look much more abundant than usual. Varric had chuckled as he tried to gently straighten her hair, which was for naught. Solas had seemed to sleep longer than most of them; Finn had wondered why, as he was usually the first to awake. She remembered their talks about his dreams in the Fade and wondered if he was encountering such a thing now. Cassandra grunted disgustedly, unhappy with the delay in their plans. They were a few hours ride from the Crossroads, just a little while shorter to a camp the Inquisition forces had set up days before. Cassandra poked Solas with her metal boot, he turned his head in a gruff and ignored her efforts.

“Stubborn thing, the rest of us will be down the river preparing for our ride. We will see you down there,” Cassandra huffed, her Nevarran accent thicker than usual.

They did as she said, down the river they went. Finn had run her hands through the cooling spring, placing her damped hands upon her hair, trying to salvage it as best as possible. Varric had taken off his shoes, much to Cassandra’s disgust, and began soaking his feet. His boots had reeked of sweat and moisture from their long journey; she could only imagine how she smelled too. She shook the thought; it was not her job to be hygienic, she was to help restore order, no matter how she smelled.

Cassandra began filling waterskins for each of them, reminding them to make it last, as she would not tolerate any stops. She made sure that they had relieved themselves of any bodily functions, which Varric had made clear to Cassandra. Solas had still not arrived to see them, Finn peered up the hill to see him sitting upon his bedroll, his shaved head reflecting the looming sun above.

Cassandra began hollering to Solas to stop his brooding and help finish getting ready for their journey, and so he did. As they mounted their horses, she found herself riding alongside Solas, chattering about the ways of magic and asking to know more of the elves. Solas had enjoyed her company and obliged.

The remaining ride to the Crossroads was not as unpleasant as Finn had expected. She had spent her time speaking with Solas, hearing stories about his adventures in the Fade, asking questions that he had not expected, which clearly made him happy.

They had made their way to the Crossroads Camp, a dwarven woman by the name of Harding, her name causing Varric to crack an unneeded joke, had introduced herself, and explained the situation within the Hinterlands. The land was plagued with the war between Templars and Mages, the location of Mother Giselle was farther down the path, helping those caught in the crossfire. They had been warned combat would most likely ensue, Finn had not been prepared.

As they traveled down the path, they began hearing the shouts of men in battle, they could hear the crackling of electricity and the shattering of ice. Cassandra started to shout commands, but Finn had been more focused on a stealthier route for herself. She retreated from her companions and began dancing amongst the shadows; vague remembrances of her steps were all that remained as she twisted and turned around her enemies and harshly inflicted wounds on their weakest spots; hurling her body across the ground as she rolled to dodge attacks, maneuvering her body around her opponents with a ferocious grace, inflicting death upon her enemies left and right.

She began hearing the struggles of her allies; Cassandra pulling back and chugging bottles of brewed Elfroot to restore herself, Varric retreated higher into the mountains fighting from above in hopes of staying safe. Solas had caught the attention of the rest of the group, they had seen him as an easier target. He began forming magic all around him, blasts of fire and ice, and barriers all around him, but it was not enough. She could see him struggling, each blast he would release dwindled in its power, he was becoming weakened. Finn replenished herself and began sprinting to the gentle cliff above him, she began climbing with unmatched speed, whipping knives down from above without being seen. As she made it to the top, she hurled her body downwards, landing directly on her feet, wiping her daggers in vital positions. Cassandra had returned and began smacking men left and right with her shield, while Varric was counting each headshot he had made, making sure to tell them from the mountain above. Finn had continued striking around her, her face and clothes blood-soaked.

Waves of the Templar’s and mages had subsided. They were safe. Solas had given Finn a look of disapproval. Still, before she could say anything, Cassandra began pushing Finn up the hill to speak to Mother Giselle, their primary purpose for being here.

Finn’s body rocked with adrenaline pumping through her veins, her heart pulsating energy all throughout her body as she approached Mother Giselle. “Don’t let them touch me!” a man shouted, a deep grunt of pain releasing from him. A woman crouched beside him, quietly shushing him. His face fell, and he nodded in agreement. “Mother Giselle?” Finn spoke, her voice gentle and composed. “Ah, yes. You must be the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste?” Her accent was vibrant but calming, almost silent. She was an older woman, looking to be about fifty or sixty years old. Her skin was illuminating in the sun, crow’s feet peeking out from her eyes, slowly becoming hidden by her Chantry garb. Finn nodded her head and quietly spoke, “Yes, although I didn’t get much of a say.” This caused Mother Giselle to release a hearty chuckle, the wrinkles on her face deepening as she smiled. “Not many of us get a choice in what others say,” Her smile deepened on her face, her kind eyes gently closing.

Mother Giselle lifted her arm to guide Finn to walk with her. They began walking across the field of injured men and women, she began speaking of the Chantry, what she had known. She informed Finn of Chantry member's plans in hopes of becoming the next Divine, and how without a Divine, she was on her own. Finn had listened intently; she had not heard such a wise voice since her days in the Free Marches, and it was comforting. Mother Giselle began telling her about the Chantry’s fear of the “Herald of Andraste,” and how she must appeal to them to gain their support. Oddly enough, Finn understood. She had not thought of it that way; she had forgotten the fear that others harbor towards mages, she could only imagine the horror of one with the power of the Fade marking her.

They had gone their separate ways after agreeing to send Mother Giselle to Haven to support their efforts in gaining the Chantry’s approval, as well as having her aid any wounded of the Inquisition. She happily agreed. Cassandra had wanted to get a lay of the area to understand the situation more, leaving them to trek through the Hinterlands on various quests and missions to restore order.

* * *

It had been several hours since their talk with Mother Giselle, they were now on their way towards the Hinterlands’ Horsemaster, hoping to obtain horses and camp for the night. Finn was exhausted, they had spent the entire day gathering resources for those in need within the Hinterlands. They had obtained blankets and food for the refugees. They had fought bands of bandits and rebels, and Solas had ensured Finn had focused some of her energy towards closing Fade Rifts. She had never endured such work in a day, nor in a lifetime. She was exhausted, her mind still reeling from their first encounter at the Crossroads, something she could not shake from her mind.

They had spoken to the Horsemaster, procured mounts for the Inquisition Forces, and made their way to make camp for the night. Varric had complained that his feet were aching, saying he hadn’t done this much work since his time with Hawke, which caused him to smile sincerely. Solas had remained relatively quiet throughout the day, only speaking when necessary. Finn had remembered the look of disgust he gave her at the Crossroads, her stomach twisting at the thought.

As they set up camp, Finn wandered across the plain to the flowing spring and sat down along the edge of the water. The moon began shining brightly, causing a luminescence within the water, reflecting her pale, freckled face. She stared into the water and focused on her face. Dirt and blood streaked across her cheeks and forehead, smears showing where she had tried to wipe it off throughout the day. Her salvaged braid had been windblown and wild, while her eyes were sunken with exhaustion. As she focused on her features, she saw the reflection of Solas within the water, who soon crouched down beside her and placed his fingers within the water. Finn had said nothing, only wetting her hands and beginning to wash her face, Solas had kept his face locked onto hers, something she could see through the rippling water.

“You did well today,” Solas said, his voice soothing. Finn shook her head, feeling her eyes burning. Solas furrowed his eyebrows, placing his hand upon her shoulder. “I had never seen anyone fight with such courage in my life,” Solas then placed his bottom on the dampened grass beneath them, his knees up and his arms dangling off them, “I do wonder though, before today, had you ever killed another soul?” Finn turned to face him, his eyes were filled with intrigue, a hearty laugh escaping Finn, “Yes, I suppose that _does_ happen when you’re a former member of a mercenary guild,” A sarcastic smile formed, as she gently winked. Solas had not been amused at her remark, causing Finn to try again, “Only once, although I have fought plenty enough,” Solas nodded his head with an agreement, happy with getting the truth. They continued to sit along the bank, Solas gently rinsing his hands as Finn tried her best to tidy up, fixing her hair and washing her exposed skin that was covered in blood, chit-chatting about life before the Conclave.

Cassandra had taken her time to set up camp for the night, she had seemed to be in a relatively good mood. Varric had set up the fire first, and placed his bedroll around it, and began writing once again. Finn watched from the river bank as he wrote, assuming he was writing of today’s journey and the _Herald’s courage. _She laughed, Solas looking at her with curiosity, “You are… Strange, you know that?” He said, smiling at her kindly, “I suppose I am,” She said, she began smiling with her teeth, which made Solas’s heart leap.

From across the bank, Varric had been paying close attention to them, Solas had shown an unusual fascination towards their Herald, he would spend most of his time talking to her. _Chuckles, talking, hah! _Varric thought, a smile spreading across his cheeks. As Cassandra finished setting up camp, Finn and Solas made their way back over, planting themselves in front of the fire. Not even Cassandra could deny their chemistry, she glanced towards Varric as the two talked, jerking her head their way, as to make a point of their connection. Varric laughed, startling Finn, another smile creeping from her lips, and a light laugh.

This was the happiest she had been in a long time.


	3. The Singing Maiden

Mother Giselle had arrived two days ago, a letter from Cassandra stated that she had left the day of their encounter and that they would be returning shortly after. Cullen had been excited, unsure why. He had missed her; she had brought a liveliness to Haven when she was here, people admired her.

Horns began to bellow as the gates opened, Finn leading, Solas in toe, Varric, and Cassandra side by side chatting amongst themselves. Unbeknownst to him, Cullen’s heart began to quicken upon the sight of Finn, her long braid bouncing along her shoulders as she walked, her smiling illuminating the sun above them. They all made their way to Leliana, who stood with a certain poise, her arms crossed behind her, the wind blowing her cloth hood to reveal streaks of auburn gently. Cullen stood from afar, his body perched against Haven’s stone walls, watching Finn with intent as she and Leliana spoke with purpose. He could tell when she had said something humorous, a cheeky grin always forming across her face, even if no one had laughed.

As Finn and Leliana finished speaking, Finn turned towards Cullen, noticing his stares and undeniably waved to him. Soon, she inched her way closer to him. He could feel burning on his cheeks; he was unsure if it was due to the bracing breezes or the gentle embarrassment washing over him.

Soon, Finn had made her way to Cullen; her hands buried deep within her trouser pockets as her body hunched over, “We’re all getting drinks at the Singing Maiden, care to join us?” She said, giving him a significant smile. Cullen had been shocked. He was not one to divulge in such things – usually always retiring to her chambers to read reports – he would never stop working. “I – I’m sure I have plenty of things that will be needing attended to, Lady Seraphina,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, come on! I doubt the Inquisition will fall apart if you take one night off, Commander,” She chuckled, Cullen had noticed that her smile only seemed to grow and grow, never faltering or fading, which had been warming thought. “Very well, I will think on it, my Lady,” He replied, gently bowing his head. Finn nodded in turn, turning and heading towards the tavern, only to turn around once more to shout, “It’s Finn!”.

He had watched her walk off, his gaze following down the curve of her spine, then focusing on her arse, _Maker,_ he thought as he took a deep breath.

* * *

Finn’s throat caught aflame as she chugged her mug of ale, sloshing down the foul substance as fast as she good, then demanding another. She was unsure of how many she had drunk, most likely enough to water an army. Her and Varric sat side by side, seeing who could hold the most liquor, Varric had stopped almost thirty minutes ago.

He sat in awe as he watched her down mugs and mugs of ale, her sobriety unwavering, only her cheeks and ears slightly reddening. The tavern had been livelier than usual that night, most of the locals had enjoyed Finn’s presence, she was a cheerful spirit, but they all appreciated that she would by multiple rounds of drinks for the entirety of the tavern.

She sat center stage, watching all angles of the room, but most definitely focused on the doors. She was awaiting Cullen’s arrival; she did not know why she invited him, only that she felt the man needed a break. In the few councils they had together, he had been a tense man lacking her certain charm, which she felt inclined to give to him.

Eventually, she stopped waiting, making her way throughout the tavern, chatting away with everyone, giving sarcastic anecdotes and friendly pats on the backs.

Varric watched from afar as he felt a chilling breeze on his back from the opening door, revealing the large and tall figure of Curly – Cullen. He had donned a tattered white tunic, tucked into a pair of brown trousers. His hair was slightly disheveled, not his standard slick back look. “Curly?” Varric said, astounded, “What in Andraste’s tits are you doing here?” Cullen’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes gazing the room looking for Finn, “Sera – Finn invited me, told me I should lighten up or…something of the sort,” He turned his head down to stare at the grizzly dwarf, his facial expression still tense, “I’ve been telling you to lighten up for years!” Varric quipped, swigging a drink from his mug, Cullen did not reply, only plopped down in the seat next to Varric, surveying the room.

They both watched Finn intently as she continued to make rounds, her cheerful spirit bringing everyone around her joy, “Is she often like this?” Cullen asked, arms crossed, “Oh yeah – Should have seen her in the Hinterlands, she has a charming effect on people,” Varric replied, a hearty chuckle escaping him.

Finn’s rounds eventually landed to Varric and Cullen, who she was all too happy to see, she opened her arms, exclaiming her approval, “Commander! Here I thought you weren’t going to show, I owe Leliana five sovereigns,” She laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder, her touch making Cullen’s skin burn.

“Flissa! Round of drinks over here!” She shouted, signaling her fingers in a circular motion as she sat across from Cullen, stretching her arms. Flissa soon came with their drinks, prompting a quiet thanks from Finn.

Finn hastily gulped down her ale, wiping the dripping beverage from her lips. Cullen continued to sit in discomfort with his arms crossed, watching her. “So, Commander, you used to be a templar?” Finn said, leaning back in her seat as she perched her legs up onto the table, “Ah, yes, I served in Fereldan’s Circle for some time,” He replied, easing up. “That must have been daunting. I’d never been near any mages until our venture into the Hinterlands, it was something – to say the least,” Finn responded as she reached across the table and snagged a piece of bread from Varric’s plate, “You had never been near a mage? Wasn’t there a Circle in Ostwick?” Cullen replied. It was a rare thing for someone never to encounter a mage; there were far and many, spread over the entirety of Thedas. “My arrival at the Conclave was the first, I should specify. But the Hinterlands was my first time in combat with them, quite an invigorating opponent,” She smiled as she tore smile pieces off of her bread and tossed them into her mouth, speaking with her mouth open, “But in Ostwick, never. The Circle there was quite secluded, and after the events in Kirkwall, our Circle was one of the first to fall,” Cullen sat intently and listened to her speak, he had found himself enjoying the very sound of her voice, the way her tongue would dance over the words, a prickling sensation sliding down his spine. “I can _remember _my father’s reaction when the Circle fell; the old man had guards posted everywhere! All the gates and entrances closed, so paranoid,” She laughed, her eyes wandering around the room.

“What was your father like?” Cullen asked, finally decided to take a drink of his ale, “An arse,” Finn replied, causing both Cullen and Varric to choke on their food and beverages, Varric soon laughing after. “Damn, Lovely,” Varric said, tilting his head in response, “He was!” She chippered, signaling her finger for more ale.

As Cullen went to continue the conversation, a scout peered through the door behind them, urgently speaking, “Lady Seraphina?” He said, a groan in reply from Finn, she had hated her name. “Message for you, Sister Nightingale thought you would want to see immediately,” He said, pushing the letter into her hands with shaking fear, she nodded her head in response, dismissing him.

Her fingers cracked open an unmarked seal, her eyes darting between the words upon the paper, her face lighting up. She plopped her feet heavy onto the ground as she began to stand, “I think that’s enough to for the night, boys, another time?” She said in a flirtatious manner, turning on her heel and stepping out into the freezing paths of Haven.


	4. United in Opinion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another shorter chapter, just some general character build up and filler content :D

Cullen’s head pounded. His eyes felt like they were about to burst out of the sockets. He tried to fight the pain, he and the rest of the leaders were to discuss sending Finn off to Val Royeaux, a trip that would take a least a week. Cullen hated the thought of sending her away for so long, he had wanted her to stay here, stay within his reach. He rubbed his face, reminding himself that she was not his, and he had refused to allow such an endeavor. Josephine and Leliana watched him struggle with his own feelings, giggling, “So, Commander, I heard that you spent the evening drinking? What a shock!” Leliana quipped, a giggle exiting as she spoke, “Finn paid me handsomely for that bet, seems I know you better than I thought,” She said again, tilting her head in a teasing manner, Cullen’s cheeks brightening, “Have you see how she looks today? Absolutely marvelous!” Josephine replied, detailing Finn’s apparel.

“Nothing happened, she left soon after my arrival,” Cullen said hushed as he grasped his neck, “I was not implying it did, but I wonder if our commander _wanted _something to happen? And yes, we received correspondence from Ostwick, we’ll be discussing the matter once she arrives,” She said, her laugh fully exposed now. _Her father? _He wondered, based on how she had spoken about him last night, he had doubted that. The way her face lit up as she read the letter, the smile forming as her emerald eyes deepened. _Was he jealous?_ Cullen shook the thought, looking down at their map and the markings, remembering each detail of each mission.

Soon, Finn had entered the room, and Cullen couldn’t deny that she did look marvelous. He watched the loose strands of her braid gently bounce around her sharpened face as she walked closer to the table, each step caused her waves to gently fall out of place, and gently land around her forehead and ears. She wore a red silk tunic, it accentuated her curves well enough, giving Cullen full access to see the shape of her bosom. Her pants where most likely his favorite piece, they formed to her slim thighs as she walked, he could see the width of her hips; they were plump and curvy, and when she would turn ever so slightly, Cullen could see the shape of her arse.

_Magnificent_, he thought to himself, his ears becoming warm. He focused on the round and plump shape, each movement causing a ripple through her arse and thighs.

Leliana had caught him staring as Josephine went over the order of plans in Val Royeaux, tilting her head towards him to whisper, “If you want to convince us you aren’t interested in her, you should stop staring at her arse,” She quipped, a smile forming. Cullen glared at her and forced his attention to Josephine as she spoke.

_Templars, nobles, blah blah blah_, Cullen thought. He had found it almost impossible to not stare at Finn, he kept the image in his mind as to not be obvious, but he couldn’t help himself.

He kept his head towards Josephine as his eyes darted to the right to sneak a glance at their Herald, who was already staring at him. Her face began to redden, causing Cullen to give her a satisfied smirk.

“I believe Mother Giselle has a fair point; the Herald address the Clerics is not a preposterous idea,” Josephine said, waving her quill as if it were a weapon, “You can’t be serious?” Cullen snipped, his deep gravelly tone shaking around the words, “At the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion, one which can easily be swayed,” She replied, her tone becoming feral towards Cullen’s doubt.

“And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” Leliana intervened, the room fell silent, everyone’s eyes focusing on Finn, who was hardly paying attention. “You’re asking me?” She said in a sarcastic tone, “One way or another, we’ll need to address the Chantry. The rumors of me being Adraste’s Herald are not going anywhere, I say we go before even more chaos ensues,” Josephine nodded her head in approval, obviously getting the answer she wanted. As Leliana began to protest, Cassandra chimed in after her long moment of silence, Finn almost forgetting she had been there had it not been for her towering stature, “I will go with her, use the names Mother Giselle provided us, it seems we do not have much of a choice,” Everyone agreed, finally coming to the consensus that a journey to Val Royeaux was imminent.

“We also received correspondence from Leonard Reiter – Or Lonnie, as our Herald addresses him,” Leliana said, prowling around the room as she searched for a copy of the paper, “The letter states that he and the remaining members of the ‘Ostwick Outlaws’ will be traveling to Haven in a few weeks to aid in our efforts,”

“Good, see to it that their travels are not too strenuous, the remaining members were young initiates and those who lack proper skill, and I do not wish to lose any more members,” Finn said. Everyone in the room had been shocked; they had never seen her so serious, as she was ordinarily sarcastic and carefree – but she had begun to show a growth of leadership and control.

As the meeting adjourned, Cullen was the first to leave as Josephine had etiquette to teach to Finn before her departure, he found himself outside the Chantry doors amid shouting.

“Your people killed the Most Holy!” A templar shouted, a mage soon retaliating, “Lies! Your kind let her die!”

Soon, the templar began drawing his sword, “Shut your mouth, mage!” He screamed as his sword began to sheath, Cullen immediately jumping in the middle.

“Enough!” Cullen barked, his once soft tone now feral, the templar immediately returning his sword to his side, backing away, “Knight-Captain!” He spoke as if about to defend himself.

“That is _not_ my title. We are _not_ templars any longer, we are all part of the Inquisition!” He snapped, his nose scrunching in anger. Cullen looked back and forth as he spoke, glaring at all around, soon finding himself fixated at Finn, who had found herself outside from the Chantry, her face painted in fear. “And what does that mean, exactly?” Ser Roderick spoke, his wise voice becoming cold, “Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?” Cullen replied, still standing between the two men.

“I’m curious commander, as to how your Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised,” Roderick said, walking through the crowd as if he was giving a Chant, “Of course you are,” Cullen snarled, bearing his teeth at the old man, “Back to your duties, all of you!” He yelled, pointing at the men who were fighting just moments earlier. Cullen found his eyes fixated on Finn, her face of fear still apparent, jumping at her name being called. She turned away from Cullen and began walking to Varric, who waved her over, horses ready for their journey to Val Royeaux.

* * *

_We are not templars any longer._

Those sound of his voice stuck to Finn like a rock in her stomach. She had tried to shake the thought during their travels, they had left just a few hours ago, and they still have another day or so left of their journey, which did not include their resting stops. Cassandra and Varric had seemed to become friendlier with each other, she began tolerating the crude jokes he would make, and even at times laughing with him. Solas had strayed behind them, he made an effort to not speak, Finn had not understood why, but she let him take his own time, she did not want to anger the friends she had.

She continued, her face focused on each step her mount was taking, listening to the sounds of its hooves smacking the rough terrain.

Her mind was focused on Cullen, she had found herself becoming quite infatuated with him, much to her dismay. He had shown to be a harsh man, something that stirred a storm inside her. She knew of his exploits during his time in Kirkwall, she was not oblivious to the Inquisition’s Commander, but when she had spent time with him, she felt like those stories were about another man.

Cullen had shown to be kind, at least to her anyway. She had noted how he would bark commands at soldiers and messengers. Still, she also noticed his relationship between the rest of the Inquisition’s advisors, Leliana and Josephine, who had teased him relentlessly through their war councils. The thought made a smile crawl on her face, she had wanted to like the Commander, she wanted to trust him, but she had walls up that were as strong as obsidian, each moment of her life the wall became sturdier. Her biggest concern was that of Lonnie, her childhood friend and someone that could be deemed a lover – it was no lie that Finn had her own fair share of romantic conquests – Lonnie had been the only one to stick.

They had grown up together, he had known the full truth of her life within Ostwick, he had been a close confidant to her and always took care of her when things got too rough. They shared something that could have been love, but to what extent she was unsure. Her brewing feelings for the Commander had left her spewing with guilt, Lonnie’s arrival, something that she dreaded and happily anticipated – but something about Cullen had -.

_No_, she thought. She was not worthy of him, he was handsome, the women of Haven would spend their time flocking around him, admiring him as he trained soldiers. She could feel jealousy rising in her, a primal possession. She had never felt such a feeling before; even with Lonnie, what they had was something far more casual – nothing worthy of jealousy. Cullen had been at least ten years her senior, he had been more experienced, and she began to wonder how many lovers he had taken.


	5. Val Royeaux

Val Royeaux was nothing Finn had expected. The buildings were made of white marble and stone, trimmed with pieces of gold and cloth of all types of color hanging from merchant stands. The people wore extravagant apparel, gold, and silver masks with pointed noses. The women wore large dresses that gave them feet worth of hips; some men even wearing skirts and shoes with heels higher than her own.

They had confronted Lord Seeker Lucius the day before; he had wholly withdrawn the templars from the Chantry, even having one of his men smash the back of Revered Mother Hevera’s head, causing her to collapse.

Finn was not impressed by his display, although he stated it was not made for her, she knew the game he was playing. The Lord Seeker was trying to invoke intimidation to the forces of the Inquisition, a failed attempt at looking strong.

Cassandra had been conflicted; the man she once followed began to show to be a crueler man than she thought, even going as far as stating that he was not the man she once knew. Varric had much to say, he had made plenty of jokes about hating Val Royeaux, even going as far as intimidating the Lord Seeker in an attempt to get a rouse out of Cassandra.

They had spent most of their time resting in Val Royeaux, gathering intel and support from shifty nobles, Finn had not minded, as she saw any support for the Inquisition as helpful. She was able to procure shipments to the Hinterlands for the refugees in need, and they had even recruited a smart-mouthed elf named Sera, and an Enchantress who seemed to irk the living hell out of Finn. Varric had taken a liking to Sera, he had found her company amusing, as well as Finn. They would sit and talk about their skills, each one of them skilled rogues, Sera having a seemingly unbelievable life-story, but Finn did not pry. They would spend their time together pulling off small pranks, telling ridiculous stories, and enjoying the extravagant cakes and beverages.

Finn had decided to browse the markets, she had entered numerous shops with items she clearly could not afford. Armor made of marvelous jewels and metals, weapons with gems and inscriptions she could not read, even a shop where a man sold an unknown item. She had loved the café the most; they served small delicate cakes filled with some type of custard filling, frosted white with edible golden beads sprinkled atop it.

They also served wine she had never indulged in before; it had tasted nothing of alcohol, a sea of tropical tasting fruits upon her lips. She had sadly, spent all of her coin the days beforehand as she divulged in the exquisite royal meals; she was saddened that she would not be able to indulge one last time.

* * *

As the group began to make their exit of Val Royeaux, Finn was confronted by a messenger who looked no older than she, holding a sealed letter. He had placed the message in her care and quickly made his way out of sight, Finn grasping the message tight, her fingers tracing around the wax seal.

Her fingers snapped the seal as she opened the letter with delicate fingers, seeing a sloppy form of writing written. A letter from Cullen, stating he had received news on the Outlaws' whereabouts, how their travel was delayed. Finn felt a wash of relief over her, she still had time to compose herself before Lonnie’s return, time to let go of her brewing feelings for the Commander.

Varric placed his eyes on her with a mischievous smile, “Is it a love letter? I do hope it’s a love letter,” He joked, Cassandra, turning her head in curiosity. “It’s just a report from Commander Cullen, updates he felt I needed to be informed about,” She said, grasping the letter tightly to her chest, smiling.

“If that were the case, Lovely, why’re you smiling like that?” He said. “Aw! Our very own Finny and Cully! I can tell it doesn’t get boring with you lot!” Sera said, laughing maniacally. Finn had felt her ears burning with embarrassment, but she could also feel a piercing gaze tearing through her skin. She shook the feeling off, preparing for their return to Haven.

* * *

Finn had returned to Haven a few weeks ago, embarking on numerous journeys to obtain more support and allies. She had found herself allied with a mercenary group led by a large Qunari named the Iron Bull, who she noted could drink his body weight in ale. They had also recruited Blackwall, a Warden who traveled on his own, who had decided to help in investigating the recent event of Wardens missing, he and Sera had gotten along well.

Her advisors had sent her off to Redcliffe to accept Grand Enchanter Fiona’s invitation of the mage support, Finn was happy that she did not need to gain the help from the templars, although Cullen had not been happy about it. She had met with an odd man, Alexius, and his son, Felix. The day they met was the strangest she had dealt within days, given a secretive note, meeting a flirtatious mage who then proceeded to have her use her mark to close a rift unlike any she has seen.

It was now time for her next war council, they were to speak of their plans to free the mages, as Dorian, the flirtatious mage, said they were most likely in trouble under then wing of Alexius. Cullen had hardly talked during their council; he kept his head down as Josephine and Leliana plotted. They began trying to find ways on how to get in there, how to free the mages. Cullen could not listen; each idea placed Finn in the front lines of danger, his irritation rose as they plotted; it could have been the lack of lyrium, or it could be his growing feelings for the young Herald.

“We do not have the man-power to take the castle! Either we find another way in or give up this nonsense and go and get the templars!” Cullen spoke, sounding harsher than usual.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand!” Cassandra retaliated, her Nevarran accent illuminating her frustration, “The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name! It’s an obvious trap!” Josephine replied. Finn stood still, her face reddening in anger. “Enough!” She snapped, the rest of her advisors stopping to look at her with shocked faces. She had never spoken so harshly before; they would all have described her to be calm and collected, always kind. “We can’t keep fighting amongst ourselves, we need to come to an agreement,” She said, her tone finding its natural place once again. “A Tevinter Magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing!” Leliana snapped towards Finn, but clearly directed at Josephine, her irritation showing, “Not this again,” Josephine replied, snarling, “Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Fereldan, it has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you’ll die! And we’ll lose the only means we have for closing these rifts. _I won’t allow it_,” Cullen said, his voice beginning angry as it slowly turned into sadness as he realized the situation they were in.

Eventually, they came to a consensus to have their agents infiltrate the castle from the underground pathways within the castle, while Finn and a few comrades joined her to speak directly with Alexius.

Out of nowhere, Dorian flung open the door, a soldier in toe, a face of regret, “This man says he has information on the Magister and his methods, Commander,” He said, then turning his heels and exiting the Chantry.

“Your spies will never make it past Alexius’s magic without my help, so if you’re going after him, I’m coming along,” Dorian said, a smirk growing on his face.

“The plan puts you in the most danger, I – _we _can’t in good conscious order you to do this,” Cullen spoke, his voice stuttering and softening. “We can still… Go after the templars if you would rather not play the bait, it’s up to you,” He said, his eyes fixated on Finn’s, a blush creeping in on her cheeks.

“Very well,” Finn snapped, finally having enough, “Josephine and Commander Cullen are right – this is a clear and evident trap for me. I do not have enough training against mages, especially if the rebel mages are in on his plans, not to mention the danger our scouts will be in,” They continued to watch her as she walked towards the map, drawing her fingers across marked paths, making her finger to Therinfall Redoubt, “While within Val Royeaux I was sure to procure plenty of noble support, summon them and make direct contact with the Lord Seeker – I – We will present to him the forces and reputation of the Inquisition to gain his support,” She finished, bracing her palms against the table as she looked up, everyone stood in awe. Finn had begun to feel more comfortable in these councils, she had found her voice, she became a voice of reason, able to end their bickering with just a few words. 

Dorian stood next to her, his eyes glinting with slight frustration, “You intend to let Alexius roam free?” He hissed as he grasped her arm tightly, Finn swirled her body around his, grabbing his wrist and lifting it to his chest. “I do not intend to do nothing, but for me to take on a force as large as the rebel mages, we will need the support of the templars – after we procure their support, we will plan to set Alexius straight,” Finn let go of his hand, Dorian grasping onto it gently rubbing it, pouting at her. She stepped back, bracing herself against the war table, “In the meantime, I need you to keep watch – Leliana, please send numerous agents to Redcliffe as well to monitor the situation. I trust Dorian that you will aid me,” She gently bowed her head, Dorian smiling wryly, “Well, when you put it like that, there’s no way I could refuse!” He chuckled.

Cullen had felt better for their change of plans – Finn was right, the mages were a considerable risk, one that was not worth taking. He had hated that he felt that way, as he hoped to eventually stray away from his distaste for mages – but it seemed to stay. 

They had finished their discussions and plotting, placing markers around the castle near each entry, Josephine and Leliana were the first to leave, Cassandra close in tow.

Only Finn and Cullen remained. Cullen stood there in silence as he stared down their map, eyes darting from each marker to the next, his mind racing with fear. “Seraphin – _Herald_,” Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “I wanted to thank you for – this sounded much better in my head – I appreciate your willingness to work alongside the templars and that I – Uh – Care about you – About what you’re doing, I mean,” He said, soon pushing past her and outside the room.

* * *

Finn lay on her bed, her mind racing with thoughts on tomorrow’s mission. She had her best armor laid out on the chest at the end of her cot, potions, and weapons at the ready. She was unsure what to expect, she had felt incredibly uneasy. It was near past midnight, the air within her chambers still, the only sound being that of the crackling fire. The armor she had prepared was one she had purchased in Val Royeaux, one made of thick dragon scales and chainmail, peaks of leather embroidered with fine silk thread and extravagant designs. It was a respectable piece, one that would surely show the strength and reputation of the Inquisition.

Although they had decided to switch to the safer option, she had felt guilty for choosing to abandon the mages outright. The templars were the safer bet – although the Lord Seeker’s actions had made her doubt that. She had felt in her gut that something would go wrong, as they always do.

She began to think of what Cullen had said, her cheeks began to steam.

_I care about you. _

She couldn’t shake his words from his mind, the way he spoke, he was nervous and shy, something in which she had enjoyed. He had proved to her that he was not a threat. She had enjoyed the way he said her title, although she wished he would say her name instead. As she imagined the sound of his voice speaking to her, she began to feel a calmness wash over her, Finn then drifted off into a deep slumber, her head against the wall, the book she had been reading closing between her fingers.


	6. Champions of the Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter kinda-ish. Kinda angsty too, and a little more info on Finn's past, and hints at what haunts her.

The ride to Therinfal Redoubt was long and tireless, endless waterfalls of rain poured upon them as they approached the gates. A sea of nobles wearing fanciful hats and extravagant blouses swarmed around Finn as she slowly prowled her way to the gates, all eyes surveying her every move. She had been stopped by an exceedingly pompous man, his name something along the lines of “Lord Aber-something,” Finn had not cared to listen – he was proud of himself – too proud, Finn had noted as they continuously marched together to speak with the templars.

The man-made a point to bring up Finn’s nobility, only for her to stick her nose up at him – he had been unsure if she felt herself better than him, or if she had not cared at all. He spoke of his surprise towards Lord Seeker’s agreement to speak considering their last encounter.

As they reached the final gates, Finn had noted that although rundown – the castle was quite wonderous. Miles of stone upon stone, vines creeping in through foundation holes, seeping with rain glistening upon the rock. Drenched red flags now dark maroon which embarks the heraldry of the templars, swaying with the weight of the storm.

Although it’s beauty – Finn could sense the unease to her very core – as well as her companions. Sera had made a snide remark, which was not uncommon, while Cassandra and Varric were not impressed with the number of nobles and templars in their midst.

The group chatted amongst themselves, all feeling the unease within the castle and the sudden change of plans from the Lord Seeker – who Cassandra blatantly pointed out was not one to sway his opinion so quickly, which did not ease any of their anxieties.

The pompous man from before, who Finn had finally recalled his name to be “Abernache” had been standing only a few feet in front of them, proudly being introduced by another Orlesian to a tall and large man dressed in heavy templar guard, who all but ignored the introduction, pushing past them to Finn.

His name, from what Finn could hear, was Ser Barris. His stature was astounding to Finn, his darkened skin glistened into flowing silk as the rain fell atop it, his eyes brooding down at Finn with fascination. “You must be the Herald of Andraste,” He said, his voice not as deep as Finn was expecting, “I am the one who contacted Ser Cullen, although I did not expect your appearance to bring such…lofty company,” He said as he gently leaned to Finn’s ear, a snarky remark escaping Abernache, “This lofty company, however, has garnered the interest from the Lord Seeker – beyond sense,” Finn raised her eyebrow as he continued to speak, the man had known him well, “Our skies burn with magic and he ignores all calls to action until your friends of status arrive.”

Finn turned her body to face Cassandra, her face just as perplexed as hers, “Cassandra, are things normally like this?” Finn said, her tone hushed, “Not ordinarily – no,” She huffed, her voice becoming thickened with concern. “He has taken command, permenately, under a Holy Mandate,” The man sighed as he inched closer to Finn, almost to where she could feel his breath.

“The Lord Seeker’s actions make no sense – he promised to restore the Order’s honor, then marched us here to wait?”

“Win over the Lord Seeker, and then every able-bodied knight will help seal the Breach,” he reached his hand out to Finns, as she promptly took it in hers, and shook, “I shall do my best, Ser Barris.”

Soon, Ser Barris began guiding them through the fortress, dozens of awe-eyed templars watching as they continued to make their way through to three pillars of levers, flags hanging on the wall in front of them, “The Lord Seeker has a…request,” Finn watched the flags dripping with water as he continued to speak, “There are rites, to show who you hold in the highest regard – the people, the Maker, and the Order,” Finn inched herself closer as she surveyed the flags, identifying each with what they were to represent. Lord Abernache voiced his distaste – which was no surprise, but Finn tossed it aside as she found herself at the banner of the People, raising it as high as she could. Between the templars and the Maker, it was no hard choice, as she grew the Maker between the People and the Order. Finn had always had faith in the Maker – although little. She had been raised within a quite religious family; no doubt her parents would have sent her to serve the Chantry if she continued to disobey – even so, she kept what little faith she had at heart.

She stomped her way in front of Ser Barris, as he questioned her choices, “Quite simply, the people will always come first,” She said, the sarcasm in her voice made them all unsure if her choices were real, but either way, they began their tread to the Lord Seekers chambers – only to find him to not be there.

Within the room stood numerous templars – but something had been off. Their armor had looked considerably different, their eyes sunken and darkened as the veins on their faces seemed to pop out significantly – almost looking emotionless. As they all approached the desk, Ser Barris addressed one of the men, clearly marking him as the Knight Captain, he had said nothing in reply to Ser Barris, only kept his watchful gaze on Finn as he inched closer.

“You were expecting the Lord Seeker – He has sent me to die for you,” They all stood in confusion, save for Lord Abernache who continued on one of his rambling tangents as he inched closer to the Knight Captain. Finn found her eyes darting around the room, each movement her eyes made analyzed the intensity of the situation. Men grasping onto their weapons as if a crutch – their brows furrowed and their popping veins throbbing. 

The Knight Captain began laughing as Lord Abernache finished talking, as he intently watched Finn with hungering eyes, “This is the grand alliance the Inquisition offers?” Finn had ignored what he said, her body feeling the gentle movements of the men around them – the silent sound of weapons drawing, which no one had seemed to notice.

“Abernache, stop being a fool and get over here,” She snapped, her eyes signaling a warning to him, one he did not understand. Abernache only laughed until the screams ensued.

Sounds of terror filled the walls outside, hollers of battle, the sound of blades slicing through bones as one of the templars raised their bow so subtly, prompting Finn to call out, “Abernache!” As she swiftly ripped a dagger from her belt, whipping it across the room, the templar collapsing.

The arrow shot straight through his head, blood-spewing as the shaft continued to fly past Finn and the rest of them – splattering their armor and faces with his blood. _Too familiar_, she thought, her body began to feel feverish as the familiar imagery ran through her mind – once again, she was too slow.

Before any of them knew it, the remaining templars drew their swords, forcing them into combat. Ser Barris took hold of two of the men while Sera found herself climbing up one of the wooden posts to perch herself from high above as she reigned arrows down upon them. Varric shot a barrage of bolts across the room – unafraid of hitting anyone and everyone, while Cassandra brutishly pummeled her way through enemies with vigorous force. Finn had found her body in a trance, her movements not her own – anger and fear riling through her veins as she elegantly prowled around her enemies with ease, throwing daggers every which way, slicing and dicing through the men’s vulnerabilities.

As the screams continued, they all found their way outside – bodies piled upon bodies, gruesome wounds that made Finn’s belly churn in disgust as they pummeled their way through their enemies. No one had been safe from their wrath, especially Cassandra, who had been the most disgusted of them all.

The rain cleansed their bodies of the foul-smelling blood that covered their bodies from battle, the blood sticky and darkened black. Finn could hear singing, the gentle chants and desire and need webbing through her mind, although a beautiful sound – it had made her sick.

She followed her instincts and began following the sound. No one had objected to her plan, most likely because she had not brought up the song. They continued to weave their way around enemies and striking them down – they fought harder and stronger than any templar she had seen before. Their skin had been hard like iron as if they had built themselves an armor made of flesh and bone, the blood even flowed differently around their wounds, swirling into a catalyst as if to seal itself shut.

Finally, they found their way at the entrance of a large door at the top of a large set of stairs – atop those stairs stood the Lord Seeker, his back turned as his black hair looked like sticky tar as the rain poured down. The weight of blood and battle and storm weighed down upon Finn’s body as they shuffled their way up the stairs, they had all lost their adrenaline – the fear and anger subsided to reasons unknown.

Finn did not stop, she pushed her body further and further as she drew a clean blade from her belt, the Lord Seeker only steps away. He began to slowly turn his body, a face of hunger and desire upon his face, as he sprinted his body towards Finn – promptly knocking the blade from her hand as he pulled her to him.

Everything had gone black, then began to swirl into a void of bright greens, blood added to the mix, creating a horrid picture in Finn’s mind.

-

Finn awoke in a panic as she felt her body swirl around her. Nausea took over as her body began to tense and release itself – foul liquid spewing onto the floor. She could handle almost nothing around her, the air held nothing to it. No breeze or sound, no moisture – it had felt entirely unreal. She found herself analyzing her surroundings, her head pounded as if she had been asleep for days – all the while, it felt that no time had passed at all, that the pounding in her head was not her own. The swirling green had found her once again, this time in the image of flames growing around her, engulfing the pillars around her, causing mineral-like veins within the stone. Bodies scattered around the floor, much like those at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, staring up at the sky their bodies burnt in a firm stance.

She pushed herself through the room, her mind swaying as if her thoughts were not her own. She could not recall what was real and what was not, her grasp on reality so slim. Finn then saw the silhouette of two familiar faces, Cullen and Josephine, standing side by side as they watched her. She forced herself into a gentle job as to not irritate continuous nausea eating through her stomach and stopped herself in front of them.

As she stopped, she heard the sound of an echoing gasp, her body jumping. As she saw the face of Leliana exited the shadows – she felt relief wash over her, until she began to focus.

“Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?” The voice was clearly Leliana’s but – clearly not. The haunting sound of gurgling as she spoke, the way her words echoed into a vibrating song. “Everything tells me about you. So will this, _watch_” She snarled, Leliana soon grabbed Cullen, his body unmoving and hunched over, bringing a dagger to his neck.

Echoes of memories flooded through her mind at the sight – fear and anger boiling in her. She made the maneuver she has done so many times – only to fail at – grabbing the blade from her waist and whipping it across the room.

Cullen’s body fell to the ground, his throat slit in half as Leliana’s body disappeared, the blade clattering on the stone ground, the echo emanating through Finn’s bones.

Before she knew it, Josephine began prowling around Finn, the dagger Leliana had used just moments before still in hand, her fingers trickling along the edge, “Being _you_ would be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker,” She laughed, Finn whipped her body around, the figure so clearly gone, it’s presence still seeping into her skin, the feeling of its breath hot on her neck.

“Do you know what the Inquisition can become? You’ll see,” Finn lashed her arm out behind her, hitting nothing but a gentle breeze between her fingers. Her heart pounded as her body felt itself giving in. “When I’m done, the Elder One will kill you and ascend. Then I will _be_ you,” Finn caught her breath, her eyes darting to every inch of the room, seeing nothing. Finn said nothing, the figure of Josephine appearing in front of her out of thin air, “Glory is coming, and the Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else – by dying in the right way.”

Finn scoffed, as she threw her arms in the air, “Then what are you waiting for? This was a long time coming!” She was partially serious, the wish of death had been something she had thought about many times, and if this was to be her time, so be it.

The collapsed body of Cullen began to rise, the slit in his throat still evident, blood seeping through as he inched closer to Finn, “I am not your toy! I am Envy, and I will know you!” His voice was disgusting – the alluring and comforting sound Finn had known well had become that of a monster, his face snarled in anger as he swayed himself in front of a ghostly figure resembling Finn.

“Tell me, Herald, in your mind. Tell me what you think!” He plunged a dagger deep in the figures chest as it collapsed onto the ground, screaming in pain. “Tell me what you feel!” The room began spinning as more images warped around, unpleasants sights almost completely wiped from her mind. Until she turned around.

The figure of a small boy, straight blonde locks covering ocean blue eyes, silk pajamas defiled as blood dripped from his neck, his hands covering the wound. Finn could feel the weight of something in her hand, reaching it to her face, she saw the dagger from before, covered in blood, the boy’s face covered in terror. “Sieg,” She whispered, she could feel her heart writhe in pain as Cullen continued to speak, “Tell me what you see!”

And then nothing.

There were no more voices, only the leftover pain from reopened wounds and new wounds forming themselves. She shook her head as she pushed herself through endless corridors, smoke and fog filling her lungs, the blood of the boy still on her hands, the guilt deepening in her bones.

Endless rooms, neverending fire and pain coursing through her body, room upon room she entered showed no way out – the torture seemed to be definite.

“Wait,” A voice said, young and soft, gentle. It entered Finn’s head like a melody, the familiarity strong. Finn turned her body, she had wanted one last look at him – to hear his voice once again.

But there was nothing, only the familiar embrace of his being near her. 

“Envy is hurting you. Mirrors on mirrors on memories. A face it can feel but not fake. I want to help. You, not Envy.” The voice said again. This time she knew it was not him – it was too old, while still young, it wasn’t Sieg.

Finn found her eyes drifting upward to a young boy – straight blonde hair, icy blue eyes. She could feel her body shiver. “You’re not him. Who – who are you?” Finn said, calamity taking over.

“I’ve been watching, I’m Cole. We’re inside you, or I am – you’re always inside you.” The boy said, his presence was soothing to her – whether it be his similarities to Sieg or that of something else, she did not care. “It’s easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you’re hearing. But I’m here, hearing, helping. I hope.”

Finn stared at Cole intently, a sheepish smile forming, “You are – thank you,” Cole replied with a light smile, his dangling body from the ceiling swaying, “Envy hurt you, is hurting you. I tried to help, then I was here, in the hearing. It’s – it’s not usually like this.”

Finn could not understand, or maybe she did. Her thoughts were still not her own, endless memories pouring through her mind like rushing waves – memories that were not real, she could not distinguish them apart.

“So this is…my mind?” She said, reluctantly, Cole nodding, “I was watching. I watch. Every templar knew when you arrived. They were impressed, but not like the Lord Seeker.”

Cole’s body darted around the room as if he was moving without a frame, “You’re frozen – time is different here. Thoughts are fast, we’re here. Outside, a blade is still falling, hanging in the air like a sunset.” Finn rubbed her eyes, nothing he had said made any sense, she was not overcome with her anxieties any longer, which was helpful.

“Can you help me get out of here? Honestly, it’s not the most enjoyable thing,” Finn chuckled, to her surprise, he chuckled back, “Yes,” Before she knew it, Cole had disappeared, only the calming sound of his voice guiding her through the endless corridors remained.

He instructed her – showed her ways around the problematic paths, his voice dominating that of her mind – her thoughts becoming hers once again.

They went further and further up, slight sights of what the world would be if she were to stay – to give in. She shook her head, that was not an option, not after how far she had come.

They reached as high as possible, the sounds of familiar screams ensuing, the sight of Therinfall Redoubt in her eyes, the views of templars fighting templars. They made their way up to where she last remembered being, dead bodies scattered across the ground.

Finn felt her body pushed back against the wall, the hideous grasp of talons of her flesh, but the sight had been her – darkened and hardened. “Unfair, unfair! That _thing _kept you whole, kept you from giving me your shape!” Finn struggled her body, shimming herself from Envy’s grasp, “What could you gain from being me? You saw it all! Broken and guilty, I am nothing!” She shouted, her body still locked.

“What could you gain –“ Envy said, the voice that was so close to hers became that of something entirely different – twisted and ugly, echoing through her bones. “We’ll start again! More pain this time! The Elder One still comes!” Envy shouted as its hand mirrored that of Finn’s. Soon, Cole’s body emerged out of nothing, small and helpless, illuminating life and compassion. “It’s frightened of you,” He said, his voice gentle. Envy twisted it’s gaze to Cole, giving Finn a moment to strike, as she ripped her body free of their’s and blasted her head into it’s.

The light blinded Finn’s eyes as she felt her body whole again, the Lord Seeker’s body now gone, showing that of a monstrosity that looked to be stretched flesh piled atop of endless bones, disappearing past barriers of green.

* * *

Screams shook the ground and sky around them as the stretched flesh being collapsed to the ground into nothing. Hollers and whoops coming from behind them, dozens of templars standing and clapping at the Herald’s success.

The rain continued to fall, however, instead of hating the feeling, Finn reveled in the taste of the cold rain showering her body. The wash of blood and fear leaving her body like a rushing waterfall. Ser Barris and the remaining templars made their way to Finn, their faces proud. “The demon is dead. Andraste be praised – she shielded you from its touch,” He said, as the men and women began to place their fists on their chests, kneeling, “We are ready to hear what is needed of us.” He finished, following his comrades as he knelt.

Finn turned her body to watch the sky, the swirling green abyss stabbing through her chest, “Your Order was corrupt – led by those who would seek to destroy it. But within those ranks, I see men and women with honor, those who will fight to do the right thing,” She turned her body to face them, bracing her face as she perched it up to the sky, feeling the rain fall down, “We demand nothing else of you – help the Inquisition seal the Breach before it is too late – help us recover peace among Thedas, and restore the remaining honor this Order has left.”

They all made a standing ovation for the faith Finn had placed in them – although she was unsure herself, this was not her decision to make, and she would surely hear it from her betters.


	7. Haven's Downfall

A week had passed since their conclusion at Therinfall Redoubt – they had gained the support of the templars. While not everyone had been pleased with the overall outcome, many of her council wishing she had spoken to them instead of making a choice for herself – they were still glad for the support.

Within that week that had gained considerably more interest from the nobles, even that of the Chantry began to show a sliver of trust to the new-formed Inquisition – although a distaste was still shown as they were able to gain more resources, that of lyrium suppliers and noble agents.

Now, they had closed the Breach. Somehow, Finn and the templars she had rescued just days before were able to work together and close the Breach almost entirely, only a remaining small scar in the sky.

Finn had been proud – although not entirely happy. She did not want this to end, but her job would soon be over once she had closed any remaining rifts, and she would quickly go home if home was still an option. Her mind focused on how she left things with her father if he would even allow her to enter the gates of Ostwick. The only comforting thought of home was Lonnie, who would be arriving in Haven in just a few more weeks – who knows, maybe she would run off with him. 

Haven was ecstatic, the threat gone, people began to party throughout the streets of the town, Varric among them, begging Finn to join. She didn’t participate; instead, she spent her time watching over the city, hope in her heart.

That hope did not last long, as the horns blew warning to those inside the gates, Cassandra ran up behind Finn, and guided her to Cullen who was standing at the gets, at the ready. Soon, clashing at the door began, the voice of a young man spoke in fear, “It would be marvelous if someone would let me in!” Finn had recognized the sound to be that of the alluring Dorian – who she had tasked to keep watch on Redcliffe until forces arrive. Cullen forced the door open, Dorian whipping his staff in every direction, flows of energy and flame dancing off the end of it causing enemies to collapse.

“Forces were scouted from the hills above, a large force,” Cullen said, eyeing Finn up and down, “Under who’s banner?” Josephine asked, for once not grasping onto her tablet, “None,” Cullen replied. Dorian then stepped forward, inching closer to Finn, “I got here as fast as I could, it seems that the mages are no longer an option,” He said, as he pointed towards the hills. A towering figure stood – one that resembled that of the Envy demon – stretched flesh across misshapen bones, muscles and tendons clearly evident as well as growths of red crystals growing from his body. Stood next to him was a human woman, quite beautiful. Finn could see her tightly done blonde locks and her flowing robes, a face of satisfaction. 

Soon, forces came crashing down the hills, Finn had felt panicked, unsure of what to do next, she looked up to Cullen, her eyes wide, he had said nothing, he focused on his forces, readying them for battle. Finn then saw them attacking the trebuchets, their only consistent form of defense at this point. Finn grabbed Cassandra by the arm and began running, Varric noticing, following close behind. They started blasting and smashing enemies left and right, defending the trebuchet in hopes of dwindling their forces. She pushed through, hiding amongst the shadows as her blade danced along with her enemy's bodies – opened wounds and gushing blood covering her and her blades.

The first trebuchet fired, it wasn’t enough. The forces kept coming, Cassandra and Varric began clearing the way to the next trebuchet, mages illuminating red began smashing through their defense, breaking Finn’s defenses with one hit. She began dodging and evading shots, soon making her way to the trebuchet. Varric and Cassandra covered her flank as she began to manage it herself, her body shuddered in pain as she continued to position the contraption, blood soaking through her stomach, her eyes going blurry – she had been hit. She smacked herself in the face trying to regain control, which seemed to work. Cassandra and Varric continued flowing through waves of templars as she fired the trebuchet, soon beckoning the attention of a gigantic dragon, blasting fire in their direction.

The trebuchet caught a flame, the blast of fire throwing Finn back several inches, causing her to lose consciousness momentarily. Cassandra helped lift her, noticing her wound. “Herald, we need to get you back inside, you’re hurt,” She said, placing Finn’s arm around her shoulders, slowly guiding her to the gates.

“I’m fine, we need to get back and ensure everyone is safe, once that’s done, I’ll rest,” Finn replied, her body struggling to keep up with Cassandra’s long strides.

Soon, they had made it to the gates where Cullen was holding them open, rushing any survivors in. Cassandra practically lifted Finn's feet from the ground as they began sprinting to the gates. Cullen closed them with a smash, securing them in place. His eyes locked onto Finn, eyeing up her wound, “We need to get everyone to the Chantry, it’s the only place that can withstand that things wrath!” Cullen said, he began to place Finn’s arm around him, but she retaliated, and stood on her own, making her way through the town checking every burning building for survivors.

She had found numerous survivors and enemies within their walls, she kept her movements vigilant as she continued to dodge attacks – each movement caused an agonizing tear through her stomach. Varric and Cassandra stayed close to her, protecting all angles of her. They soon rescued anyone they had found, but Finn had felt it was not enough, Cassandra insisted that they return to the Chantry, she needed her wound looked at.

As they returned to the Chantry, Ser Roderick was suffering his own wound, Dorian holding him close to him as he guided him down. As they made it inside the Chantry, Cullen made his way to Finn, his body weak.

“Herald, the council is forming to plan some form of defense, we need you!” He said, his eyes filled with worry the more he continued to look at her. “From what I heard, he’s here for the illustrious Herald,” Dorian said, pointing at Finn, “Then there’s our solution,” She replied, a sheepish smile on her face. No one had seemed to enjoy her joke as much as she, everyone giving her looks of horror, “She’s right,” Roderick said, his voice coarse, blood spewing from his mouth as he spoke, “There’s a path, no one would know it unless they had taken the Summer Pilgrimage, I can lead us,” He said, forcing himself to stand.

Cullen nodded, “I can try and get out there, hold any of them off. We still have one more trebuchet to launch, I can bury this place,” Finn said, “And what about you?” Cullen retaliated.

Finn said nothing, keeping her eyes focused on the door of the Chantry. Cullen simply nodded his head, regret swaying through his stomach, and Finn began making her way outside the Chantry doors with Varric and Cassandra close behind.

* * *

The final trebuchet was flooded with templars and monstrosities; Cassandra and Varric continued their strategy of protecting Finn as she began aiming the trebuchet. Wave after wave of enemies came flooding in, Finn’s body was writhing in the pain she was enduring, the adrenaline was not enough to fight off the pain of her wound, she pushed herself farther and father, the trebuchet in place. Before she could fire, the dragon began to swoop down, getting ready to blast them with fire.

“Run,” Finn said, her voice calm, “Now!” This time harsh, she began running back, her body embroiled in the heat around her. As she repositioned herself to stand, she could see Cassandra and Varric entering the Chantry, following her orders to retreat.

The man she had seen upon the mountain top, the man with stretched and wrinkled skin, stood in front of her. His arms were long and brittle as if there was no muscle or fat; his head was significant compared to the rest of his body, which had growths of red upon it.

The man inched closer to her, the ground beginning to shake as the dragon came running behind her, screeching in her ears. “Enough!” He snarled, lifting his arms, the fire-raising around her along with it. “Pretender! You toy with forces beyond your ken no more!” His voice was deep, rasping, an echoing haunting to it. “Know me, know what you pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus,” He kept his eyes locked on Finn, “You will kneel!” He shouted, his eerily long and slim fingers pointing to her and the ground, “I will not kneel!” She screamed, standing firm in place, “I am here for the Anchor, your consent is not needed. The process of removing it begins now!” He held a dark bronze orb in his hands with deep, intricate design upon it, with a twitch of his fingers it began to glow and crackle with red electricity. He whipped his hand in her direction, the same power emanating from his palm, sending her mark to course through her body. She screamed in agony as his will began to stretch and pull at her mark, the veins in her palm feeling as if they were going to burst, the green spreading all the way up to her elbow. She fell to her knees, grasping onto her arm as her veins were set ablaze, “It is your fault, _Herald_. You interrupted ritual years in the planning. Instead of dying, you stole its purpose,” His arm whipped back and towards her again, another scream releasing from her, the skin on her hand becoming green, the veins darkening. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens,” He said, squeezing his palms. Electricity flew from her hands as it felt like the mark on her hand exploded, she crouched farther down to the ground, her head placed upon the cooling snow, “You used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!” He screeched, Finn still curled on the ground, her body rocking as she gripped her wrist. Soon, he stopped casting and walked to her, grasping her by the arm and dangling her feet in the air, her eyes matched with his, “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person, I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers, for a thousand years, I was confused, no more,” His grasp held tighter onto her, her shoulder feeling as if it were going to fall out of place any moment. “I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct the blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and it was _empty_!” His arm riled back as he through Finn several feet, her shoulder and back slamming into the trebuchet, the impact striking her wound from behind, her ribs becoming numb. She screamed in agony, slowly picking her body up to face him, her hair falling out of her neat braid from the battle before, her armor tattered and soaked in her and her enemies blood, “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling,” Finn hurled her body at a nearby sword, preparing herself to attack, the dragon and him inching closer and closer, the ground rumbling with each step they took.

“So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation – _and God_ – it requires,” as he finished speaking, Finn focused her eyes at the skies past Haven, seeing a signaling flare shoot, illuminating the sky in flames.

They were safe.

“I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You _must_ die,” His hand began to light up with electricity once more, but before he could kill her, Finn said one final thing.

“I’ll only die knowing you died with me!” She screamed, she lifted her leg as high as she could, and spun the trigger of the trebuchet, launching into the mountains.


	8. Landslide

Cullen watched from their gap between the mountains as the final trebuchet launched, a massive avalanche once impacted; he had seen the dragon – now being called an Archdemon – fly off.

Their camp was filled with dozens of tents and even more injured soldiers; there were not enough herbs or medicine to help those injured. Mother Giselle was amongst the wounded, trying her best to ease the pain of soldiers and civilians alike.

Cassandra watched the skies as the dragon passed, seeing the man from the mountains dangle from its claws. Leliana refused to look as she chanted to herself. Josephine sat, rocking her body back and forth, her body freezing.

Cullen needed to stay busy. He had not seen Finn emerge from the downfall, he began trekking up the hill, Cassandra joining him. “You can’t expect to find her in that! Haven is covered in a mountain of snow and ice!” She yelled, struggling to lift her metal boots from the snow. “Well, I have to do something!” He snarled, his anger apparent, his body screamed in agony, his veins pulsed with heat, his head pounding.

“Cullen, I understand you had – an interest. But you cannot go into a blind rage to find her! We have people in need here! Your soldiers!” Cassandra snapped, grabbing him by the shoulders, “Do your duty, Commander,” she began walking away, Cullen close behind her.

She was right. Finn would know where to go, the people there needed help now; he wished it wasn’t so, he prayed to the Maker, please let her return safe, _I beg you_, he thought. He could not bear it, the Inquisition could not take it.

He could feel his eyes swelling, he wasn’t sure if he was genuinely feeling sorrowful or if it was the blasted winds breezing into his eyes. His metal armor made his body frigid, as he and Cassandra made it back to the camp, he kept himself busy by obeying the orders of healers, fetching herbs and potions, blankets, whatever they had.

He had to stay busy.

* * *

Finn’s body had smacked hard before her initial fall, somewhere in a cave. She could feel the grinding of her ribs as she walked, the pulsing of her shoulders leading down to her back, the wound in her stomach spread wider than before.

She kept walking, _Maker she was cold_, she thought to herself. Her clothing had been torn and shredded within the battle, so it did very little to stray the cold away. Her hair had frozen, the sweat around her face and her dripping nose frosting over like the first snow of the year.

She kept walking, her breath ragged with each step she took, her body trembling with weakness, her knees about to give out. She needed a break. _No_, she thought, she needed to keep going. She was alive, just barely, she needed to warn the others.

Her mind swirled with the things Corypheus had said to her, the statement he made about the Gods. _It isn’t right_, she shook her head, her neck aching as she did so.

She found her way outside of the cave, the wind blowing snow in a blinding white, she focused on the stars, her only guide and trekked up through the mountain. She could hear the sound of wolves howling in the distance, her anxiety filling her as she looked around, eyes on the skies and mountains. _She did not survive a demonic man just to be eaten by wolves_, she thought.

Her body soon gave out on her, collapsing to her knees, she placed her hands in the fresh snow and began setting it upon her aching bones, the cold had felt good on her shoulder and ribs. She looked down at the wound on her stomach, it had spread several inches, a massive tear in her stomach, sweat sure to have infected it. She slowly raised herself, one hand on her knee as she did so, her body swaying in action.

She continued on. She had no idea for how long, the mountain was extensive, she was unsure how much farther she could make it.

* * *

“It’s been hours! We need to send people out there now!” Cullen snapped, closing his eyes hard, furrowing his brows, “And with what forces do you speak of, Commander? The wounded?” Josephine replied, her Antivan accent feral, “I’m going myself, join me in you like, there’s no way in _Hell_ we are going to lose the only person who knows how to run this damn operation!” He yelled, beginning to walk off. He started to remove the more substantial bits of his armor, the metal gauntlets, kneepads, shoulder pads as they would only weigh him down. Cassandra had joined him, following his steps of removing her armor. They began making their way back to Haven, the snow blinding them with each step they took.

“She will be fine, Commander,” Cassandra said, her eyes focused on the snow beneath her, “Not with that wound. How could you let her continue to fight like that? She wasn’t fit for battle!” Cullen whipped his head around to face Cassandra, her face guilt-ridden, “I tried to stop her! Do you think she would listen? You know how stubborn she is.” Cassandra’s accent played around the words, she could feel the loss of Finn already; she had seen her as a close friend, someone she had admired, really.

“She survived the explosion at the Conclave, she can survive this too,” Cassandra finished, passing Cullen as he stood in anger.

* * *

Hours had passed, Cullen and Cassandra had made their way to the remains on Haven, which was not much. Snow had covered the entire town reaching all the way to the tip of the Chantry that was just barely peeking out from the snow. Cullen had begun digging, his gloves becoming soaked with frost as he dug, his hands pawing underneath the miles of snow, nothing but snow.

There was no way they would find her in this. Cullen’s head began pounding, as he became dizzy, he tried to steady himself. Cassandra noticed and rushed towards him, “You’re pushing yourself too far, Commander, we need to return,” She grabbed him by the elbow and bolstered him up, beginning their journey back to the camp.

* * *

Agony. Endless agony. Her body screamed with each step she took, her fingers and toes were numb, as well as her ears and nose. She could hardly bear to stand. She had found herself awoken covered in snow after collapsing, unsure of how long. Her body wobbled as she pushed herself up, walking farther and farther up the hill. She began to hear the faint sound of bickering underneath the howling wind.

She kept going.

Her knees burned from ice and bruises. Her stomach roiling with each step taken, the wound opening more and more. Her ribs continued to grind, each grind causing her to scream in agony. It hurt to breathe, each breath she took caused a ripple of pain through her abdomen, her lungs stung from the icy cold snow, she didn’t know how much further she could make it.

She made it to a gap between mountains, the faint sound of bickering growing louder. She saw the light of a campfire, the bustling of soldiers, and pitched tents. She inched closer and closer, until she heard Cullen speak, “There, it’s her!” His voice sounded exhausted and worrisome, “Thank the Maker!” Cassandra replied quickly after.

Finn’s body collapsed, her face hitting the icy layer of the snow, her body finally resting.

* * *

Cullen had carried Finn down the mountain towards the camp, they began undressing her and checking her for wounds.

Her chest was almost black, spreading across her lower breasts and up; she had broken several ribs. Her shoulder had popped out of place, the bruising covering down her back to her collarbone. Along with her face new cuts emerged that were deep enough to scar, she had several bruises along her cheekbones.

The healers spent an enormous amount of time and resources with cleaning her wounds, they began placing elixirs all over her body, placing warm cloth on her extremities. Her body began lashing as the healers began binding the area around her ribs and her shoulder, they said it would take time for her bones to heal if she were to survive. They began force-feeding her broths and elfroot enfused elixirs in the hope of reducing the pain and extend her.

Cullen had stayed watch, watched as healers poked at her body to see what was broken, poking her bruises to make sure that she was not bleeding internally.

His eyes focused on her lower abdomen where a fresh wound had lay, a pierce right through her stomach. He was more focused on the large scar on her stomach, one of which he could only assume was that of a burn. It was the size of the end of a torch – branded into the side of her stomach, reaching all the way from her hip to her naval. Cullen’s stomach boiled, he could feel the genuine anger for whoever had done that to her.

“We can’t promise anything,” one of the women said, quickly scurrying off as Cullen gave her a feral gaze. Varric had found his way to her tent and looked at the state of her body.

She was now wrapped in bandages and bindings, her lower lip had become swollen from Maker knows what, her eyes were sunken, she had looked like death.

“Shit, Curly,” Varric said, inching closer to her, “She just can’t catch a break,” He pulled a wooden stool over and sat by her bedside, “We owe her our lives,” He said, placing his hand on hers, feeling the coldness in her fingers.

“We won’t be able to repay that payment if she doesn’t survive,” Cullen mumbled, his head facing the ground, he was unable to look at her any longer. “She’s strong, I’m sure she’ll be up and at it in no time! Lovely won’t give up!” Varric forced a smile, pain clearly in his eyes.

Varric had to admit, he had grown fond of the young girl the past few months they had been together. She had shown great interest in his books, she loved his jokes, and her smile could bring anyone out of a bad mood.

Everyone had become fond of her. They had all seen her growth, Leliana saw her grow to be a ferocious rogue with a wit that could make her day, she was proud to know her, but she wanted to know more. Josephine had seen her as a close confidant, almost as close as Leliana. Finn knew how to make Josephine relax, and would always listen to her rambling about the pain of her job and never complained.

Cassandra had seen her be like a sister; she had felt entitled to protect her from anything. She saw her brother, Antony, in her, a deep fire within. Cullen had felt the most towards her. He had felt connected to her, two broken souls forced to save a damned world, and he was proud to do it with her by his side. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He shook his head and smashed his fist on the table in her tent. Numerous bottles of potions and elixirs fell to the ground, their contents spilling and painting the snow in an assortment of colors.

Finn had continued to lay there, unmoving, her breath becoming more and more shallow.

* * *

Cullen and Varric continued to watch her. Her fingers and legs began twitching as she rested, Cullen had waited for each twitch; reminding him that every movement meant she was alive.

Cole found himself coming over, watching her body intently.

“She’s hurting,” He said, his voice filled with sorrow, “No shit, kid. She took quite a beating,” Varric said, trying to laugh.

“No, not that. Her dreams I can feel them. Loneliness and neglect – guilt as the blood flows down his neck, her blade too slow. Silk pajamas drenched in snow and blood, blonde hair dyed red. Fire branding her – she hates the scent of burning flesh and the feeling of the campfire – memories, too many memories,” He started, Cullen interrupting her, “That’s enough, we don’t need to hear her dreams,” Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck. Although he didn’t want to hear her dreams, he did wonder what Cole’s words had exactly meant – although he knew that her happiness was a façade, he never stopped to wonder exactly what had troubled her.

Her body began to break out in a fit of rage, her arms and legs whipping around. She started screaming, a terrifying scream filled with fear and death, and everything dreadful. Cullen didn’t want to hear it, but she wouldn’t stop. He had hated the sound, he had hated seeing her like that.

“We need to get her to stop! She’s going to hurt herself more!” Varric said, his tone filled with worry. Soon, Cullen grasped down on her arms and pinned them down, his face inches from her, Varric proceeded to grab her legs, his stalky body struggling to reach.

-

_Seraphina sat alone in the large dining room, her plate of food full and untouched. The moonlight from outside crept through the gentle cracks of embellishing curtains, specks of dust dancing in the beams of light. Her fork prodded against the plate as she stared aimlessly at the extravagant amount of food – two freshly baked rolls, slivers of venison covered in a mushroom and beef gravy, piles of potatoes and corn almost brimming off of her plate. _

_She was alone – again, although that night had been a special one. Her mother was to leave the next morning to travel to Kirkwall to visit Seraphina’s Aunt Amaya. She would be gone for several weeks, leaving Seraphina and her younger brother, Sieg, alone with their father. _

_She had hated when her mother would leave – which was quite often. She had been too young to comprehend why her mother would sneak off into the dead of night, returning the next morning in the same clothes she left in – always disheveled and pleased. Her brother had only been a few months old at the time, but she had loved him dearly. He had loved to listen to Seraphina speak to him about the days she would have – her time spent with the young lowborn's in the streets of Ostwick, her studies – until he would fall into a light slumber. _

_Neither Seraphina’s mother or father had decided to show up for their dinner – one Seraphina had planned all on her own with the help of their elven servant Ellina. She had gotten their word they would come, but they both went their separate ways._

_She could feel the agonizing silence to the core of her bones, the only sound being that of her fork skimming the fine china that she had placed out, two empty plates stationed in front of her. She dropped her fork down onto the plate, gently crossing her arms together as she silently sobbed – her fingers grazing the bruises on her arms in circular motions – harshly pressing down on them, inflicting pain. _

_Her head jilted up at the sound of a slamming door – her father returning home, drunk. In his hands he held a still lit torchlight, Seraphina said nothing, only stood and began preparing him a plate – which he had not been interested in._

_His voice bellowed and echoed through the halls of their manor – words Seraphina could not hear, she could not comprehend his feelings or the movement of his mouth. _

_Each yell became a step closer to Seraphina, a swaying torch in his waving arms, fear arising. She clumsily maneuvered herself around his body as he grasped tightly onto her arm, shoving the scalding hot light onto her stomach._

_She screamed. And sobbed. Each cry was deafening – she had wanted it to be over and done with – everything had been black, and she had hoped her dream had come true. _

_Her body began shaking violently at the sound of her name, the name she loved, “Finn!” _

_Ellina. _

_The voice continued calling to her; it was no longer the sound of the elf's sweet and caring voice, it was more profound – masculine. _

_Cullen._

* * *

Her eyes jolted open as her head whipped up, Cullen and Varric holding her body down. Her eyes darted between them, Cullen just inches away from her face. Varric released her legs, Cullen still holding her arms down, his eyes focused on her, “You uh – Gonna let her go, Curly?” Varric said, chuckling.

Cullen whipped his hands away from her body and turned his back to her, rubbing his neck gently as his cheeks darkened in embarrassment. Varric watched him, a laugh arising.

“And here we thought you were dead, Lovely!” Varric teased as he sat down at the age of her bed, “I’m living the dream here, Varric,” She said, forcing a smile. Cullen had turned just in time to see it. Her eyes were tired; there was no doubt about that, but as she smiled, her cheeks reddened, and dimples formed, her cracked lips spread, seeing her smile had made him happy.

“See, Curly! She’s perfectly fine!” Varric teased, Finn gently laughing next to him, gently squeezing her abdomen as she did so. Cullen crouched by her bedside, his face close to hers, as he braced her leg tightly.

“Nice job,” He said, he kept his words professional, but his tone was filled with profound happiness.

“I aim to please, Commander,” She replied with ease, giving him a heartfelt smile.


	9. Inquisitor

Shining through herInquisitor.

It still felt odd to hear, Finn had been prepared to die at Haven – ready to sacrifice her life for all those present, maybe one person in particular; but she found as she walked through the courtyard of Skyhold that everyone she passed seemed eager to greet her with the new title. She looked up at the vast battlements surrounding her, still enchanted with the keep. It was a magnificent fortress, high within the mountains with limited entry, almost impossible to penetrate. The battlements could see far out into the hills, secure for their scouts to find trouble long ahead of time.

The fortress was in shambles; towers had caved in, the walls bearing gaps of stone and bugs living within. Wooden plains had infested the grounds near them, even within the Main Hall mess had beckoned. Chandeliers and broken tables lay on the ground atop of torn and dusty rugs. Curtains shredded and eaten by moths, the dust filling the air in beautiful streaks through the light. As she scanned the battlements, she saw Varric waving to her from the ramparts. He gestured for her to join him when she noticed the slim and curvy figure standing behind him.

Finn made her way slowly up the stairs to Varric, still recovering her strength from Haven and their journey. When she reached the dwarf, she noticed that he was shifting uneasily, looking guilty.

"There's something I should have brought up sooner," he began. "I uh – may have made a slight lie."

Finn quirked a brow at him, and he gestured to the person standing beside him, who stood looking out at the mountains.

"Lovely, er – Inquisitor, I'd like you to meet Margret Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall and former viscount," he said.

A small gasp escaped her as she turned to look at the back of the woman who chuckled at Varric's formal introduction. "You know, Hawke would have sufficed," she told him. Her voice was softer than Finn had expected. She watched as the Champion of Kirkwall finally faced her, and was surprised by what she saw. Hawke was pale, her hair – midnight black and cut to her shoulders, with bangs cut blunt across her forehead, almost covering her eyes. The eyes that looked Finn over as though she was sizing her up were azure, reflecting the sunlight and making Finn feel that looking at Hawke was like looking straight into the Waking Sea. She was taken aback; in all of Varric's tales of the Champion, he hadn't mentioned how beautiful she was. Finn had expected someone tougher and meaner looking based on the stories, rather than this remarkably feminine woman standing before her.

"Inquisitor, is it?" Hawke asked, and Finn nodded. "You're right, Varric; she is quite lovely."

Finn looked at Varric with her eyebrow raised, and the dwarf gave a shrug. "It's true, Lovely, your most admirable quality!" Finn folded her arms defensively, feeling self-conscious under Hawke's calculating gaze.

"Varric said you know about Corypheus?" Finn asked, trying to change the subject and sound confident as she did so.

"Well, yes, you see – I killed him," Hawke said.

"I'm sorry?" Finn snorted.

"Maybe you should explain that better, Hawke," Varric sighed.

Finn wandered through the courtyard again, mulling over everything Hawke had told her. Hawke had been at a loss for how Corypheus had survived their fight, and she swore up and down to Finn that she would help her defeat him. She felt responsible that much was clear. They had planned to meet in Crestwood, to seek out a Grey Warden Hawke was certain could help them. Hawke had then donned her cloak and grasped tightly onto her ornate blade that had been engraved with unknown runes. Varric had muttered about how he hoped Cassandra didn't see her, and Finn wondered if that were possible.

"Now," she heard a deep voice command from somewhere to her left, and she turned to see Cullen standing at a barrel he had converted into a makeshift desk. The scout he addressed gave a quick salute and ran off to follow the orders the Commander had just barked at him. Cullen turned, intending to look back at the reports before him, but he caught Finn's gaze and gave her a subtle bow in greeting.

She felt compelled to speak with him, and her feet seemed to carry her to him of their own accord. "Take a break," she said when she stood before him, "Is that a command?" He chuckled as he continued to bury his face in reports, "No, just concern for my friend – er - Commander."

Friend.

Cullen had not stopped to consider the two friends, neither had Finn – it was a slip of the tongue, a gentle pry in her stomach urging her to become closer to him.

Cullen sighed. "Haven was never a good situation; we were far too exposed; we had no way to prepare for what we faced. But this," he looked around them. "If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw – and I wouldn't want to. We must be ready."

He flipped through some of the reports before him, one hand resting on his sword as he thought. She watched the flexing in his cheek as he read something, and she frowned. She felt a sudden desire of the feeling of his cheek beneath her fingers, but she shook herself slightly.

"Work on Skyhold is underway. Guard rotations are established. We should have everything on course within the week," he continued as he read over a report. He looked up at her, determination in his eyes. "We will not run from here, Inquisitor."

She sighed a little at the title and folded her arms. "Ah, yes. _Inquisitor_," she chuckled. "That will take some getting used to, won't it?"

"Not at all," he smiled.

"Is that the official response?" she quirked a brow at him.

He chuckled but continued to give her that damn smile. "In all honesty, you were already leading the Inquisition – unofficially,"

Finn felt her insides squirm. "I suppose so, though I'm not sure I'm the perfect choice," she confided. He frowned a little as he listened.

"I'm certain you are. You've already proven yourself to be a worthy leader; you were exactly what we needed," he assured her. She felt her cheeks warming, her stomach tying into knots for reasons unbeknownst to her.

"How many did we lose?" she asked, trying to keep the heat from her cheeks.

He sighed. "Not as many as it could have been. Most of our people made it safely out of Haven, and they have you to thank for that."

She raised her eyes to his. The heat was continuing to rise in her cheeks as Cullen's eyes dug into her like the sun had been shining on her. "It was close. I'm relieved that you – that so many, of our people made it out." Finn squeezed her eyes shut. She had never been one to be afraid of conveying her emotions – but something about Cullen had brought out another side of her she did not understand. As she peaked them open, she gave a small nod and found herself wanting to run away - something that she would never do in the past. She turned but soon felt his hand grip her upper arm, pulling her back to face him, pulling her closer his face was inches from hers.

_Dammit._ She thought, her face began to redden more so than before – even her ears. She gently bit down on her lip, her eyebrows perched upwards.

"You could have died -" his voice broke. She wished he would stop looking at her with such intensity, she could feel a bubbling desire within her from those eyes – Maker, what was wrong with her? "I refuse to allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word. I will not let anything happen to you."

Finn's lips parted in her surprise, and she found herself speechless as she absorbed his words. His breath lingered on her neck – the scent of elderflower and oakmoss erupting her desire. "Cullen, I -"

But he suddenly seemed to notice their closeness, the look of the desperation of Finn's face as she abruptly pulled away. "We'll be better prepared, next time," he muttered, and he began to pore over the reports in front of him, not raising his gaze as she slowly turned and walked away, she clung tightly onto the remaining scent of him lingering in her nose, the remaining touch of him on her arm.


	10. Do That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a little fun time in the tavern and a little build-up for Finn and Cullen's relationship

“You knew! The whole time, you knew where Hawke was,” the Seeker roared, and Finn came down the stairs to see Cassandra advancing on Varric, who, despite his stubby legs, was able to advance around the room away from her quickly.

“You’re damn right, I knew!” he yelled back.

“We needed someone to lead the Inquisition – The Hero of Ferelden, who was gone. Then Hawke! I trusted you! You spun your story, and I believed you!” Cassandra snarled, a devious roar escaping her as she flipped the table between them.

“You kidnapped me!” Varric accused. “You interrogated me! I didn’t completely lie! She was in danger! Of all the bullshit you people put her through!”

“I told you why we needed her! I promised she would be safe in our hands!” Cassandra huffed, advancing on him. “Like you protected Finn at the Temple? How you imprisoned her?” Varric chided. This sent Cassandra in a whirlwind, soon backing Varric against the railing preparing herself for the punch.

“Enough!” Finn ran forward, yelling as she shoved Cassandra roughly.

Cassandra, blinded by her rage, shoved her back before seeing Finn’s face snarled in disgust, “Inquisitor, he -” the Seeker began, but Finn interrupted her loudly.

“I said enough!”

Cassandra and Varric both fell silent, breathing heavily. Finn backed away from between them, raising her hands.

“We needed someone, someone to lead the Inquisition! If Hawke had been there, she would have been able to save Most Holy!”

“Cassandra, I only survived by chance – who’s to say Hawke would have as well?” Finn cut in. “This isn’t helping anybody.”

“Exactly,” Varric said smugly before Finn shot him a withering glare.

“Now isn’t the time for your sarcasm, Varric,” she snapped. He threw his arms up in defense.

“You’re right,” He sighed, diverting his eyes to the ground like a scolded Mabari.

Cassandra turned away and rested her hands on the railing, bowing her head in her frustration. Finn then gave Varric a signal with her head urging him to leave, and so he did, not before he turned back and glared at Cassandra’s back. “You know what I think? I think if Hawke had been at the Conclave, she’d be dead too. You people have done enough to her.” And with that, he departed.

Finn turned to look at Cassandra, watching the Seeker’s shoulders heave as she took deep breaths.

“I keep wondering what might have been, what I could have done differently, how I could have prevented all this,” the Seeker finally confessed. “But he’s right. Even if we had found Hawke, she might have died with the Divine.”

Cassandra sighed and turned to face Finn. For the first time, she could see the weight bearing down on her shoulders. “Do you have such little faith in me that you still believe Hawke should lead?” she asked.

“I – You aren’t the leader I would have suspected. I thought you to be foolhardy – you never took anything seriously. I guess now it’s that – I see you as a treasured friend, and I do not want this Inquisition to be the end of you.”

Cassandra’s words burned through Finn like a wildfire – after Haven, so many had begun to consider her their friend, whether she realized it or not. She had never known how to have friends – except for Lonnie – but even then, that was more than pure friendship.

Finn tilted her head towards Cassandra and smiled, “Even so – I do hope I have some redeeming qualities,” she laughed. However, that was her way of disguising her true feelings. Her mind began twisting and turning around her role - so much was expected of her, as the Herald, as the Inquisitor. She saw the way everyone looked at her in terrified, worshipful awe as she passed through the halls and grounds of Skyhold. The endless whispers, the stories being told. It was beginning to wear on her; she did not feel fit enough. The respect of the people came with a cost – the endless nightmares, the risk of her life at every moment. In the past, she would have jumped at the chance to risk her life so foolishly but after seeing the way everyone depended on her, she had cause to continue.

Death had finally been something she was afraid of.

Cassandra seemed to realize Finn was struggling because she stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re selfless and cunning. Not to mention a much better comedian than Varric,” she said softly, a wry smile showing. Finn gave a grateful smile. “I never thought I’d see the day where Lady Cassandra Pentaghast told a joke!” Finn released a hearty laugh as her stomach twisted and turned.

* * *

"Ah, Finn!” Dorian called to her, waving a signaling arm from where he sat beside Iron Bull and Sera. Finn smiled a little and pushed her way through the tavern. She managed to reach them and fell onto the bench next to Sera.

“Hey, Boss,” Bull greeted her, and he reached over to fill an empty cup from the bottle that sat in the middle of the table. He passed it to her, and she took it gratefully, taking a long gulp before she looked up at the two sitting across from her.

“Is everything all right, my dear?” Dorian asked her, frowning as he watched her take another appreciative drink of the strong liquor.

“I’d say it isn’t,” Bull chimed in, looking sideways at Dorian. Finn chuckled lightly, setting her cup down and wiping her lips with the back of her hand, Dorian grunting in slight disgust.

“Ah, you know – the neverending weight of saving the world,” she muttered.

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s what happens when you save an entire village from an Archdemon who likes to crush things!” Dorian ranted, gesturing wildly. He seemed to be several cups into the swill they had been drinking. “And here you thought your job was easy.”

“Aw, give her a break!” Bull joked.

“Let’s forget that demon crap for just one night.” Finn smiled at him, nodding in agreement.

Finn stared into her nearly empty cup. She drained it before she held it out to Iron Bull. He nodded at her and filled it once more. Krem and the other members of the Bull’s Chargers appeared beside their table, holding fresh tanks of ale and talking loudly. A few of them stuttered to a halt when they saw her, but Iron Bull shot them a meaningful glare. “Good, you’re finally here! It’s time to get the Inquisitor drunk!” he told them. “She’s one of us, and she needs another drink.” A roar of cheers erupted as a few ran off, returning with another bottle of ale, slamming it down beside her. Rough slaps on the back and grasps on her shoulders.

She began to feel like she did when she first joined the Inquisition. Happy and free, she felt more like their family instead of the leader.

* * *

The Commander didn’t drink much, and he certainly didn’t make a habit of frequenting the tavern – only when he knew that the Inquisitor would be present would he join, as he enjoyed to see her carefree spirit.

And so he was scanning the crowd, as soldiers stared at him in confusion as well as fear, who all appeared worried he was about to start yelling at them. The idea of unwinding and having a pint had initially appealed to him, but it would have been more enjoyable to spend that time with Finn. The girl who had called him friend just a few days before had given him those wide eyes that he couldn’t stop thinking about. He could still smell her, feel her gentle and ragged breath as they stood inches from each other. If he had moved just a few inches closer and -.

Then his eyes fell on her, and his insides twisted as a multitude of emotions washed over him.

Finn was sitting at a crowded table, and he realized she was surrounded by the Bull’s Chargers as well as the others she had donned to be her friends. She was smiling, laughing at something someone said, carefree and relaxed – just like her.

The Commander felt his breath halt, and his stomach knot as he watched the way she would smile with the others. The way her laugh would emanate across the room – the slight dimple that would form on her cheek and the glimmer in her eyes. He had felt jealous – she had never shown herself to be that comfortable around him, maybe before Haven, but after they had found Skyhold – after she risked her life for all of them – something change within her. She had become closed off and reclusive, her demeanor quite shy around him, which made him puzzled.

“Curly!” a deep voice bellowed, and he turned toward the bar despite himself, despite how he hated that nickname, despite how he didn’t want to tear his eyes away from her smiling at someone else. Varric was leaning against the bar, waving a tankard of ale in greeting. “Come to see Lovely’s charm in action?”

Cullen grunted in displeaser as he gestured for an ale from the barkeep, and Varric took his place on the stool next to him. As soon as the jug was in front of the Commander, he picked it up and took a long gulp, draining half of it in one go.

“Heh, rough day?” Varric quipped as he smugly drank from his mug. “You know Lovely’s been asking after you since this afternoon. I’m sure she’d love the company.”

Cullen lowered the jug and shook his head, biting back a harsh retort. He was trying not to turn around to look at where she sat, where soldiers were staring at her with infatuation – admiring her charm.

He sighed and took another drink.

He could no longer fight the urge to stare, and when he did, he saw a crowd of young recruits surrounding her. Their misplaced hands resting on her shoulder, some sitting close to her, their hands placed on her thigh as she erupted in laughter.

The Commander frowned as he turned away, forcing himself to look at Varric once more. “Why aren’t you over there?” he asked the dwarf. “You and the Inquisitor are close, aren’t you?”

“I may have made the mistake of pissing her off, at least, I think?” Varric sighed, slamming his cup onto the bar.

Cullen took a sip of his ale, wondering at the other man’s sudden melancholy. “What did you do?”

“Well, let’s just say I maybe, kind of, sort of - lied about not knowing where Hawke was,” the dwarf shook his head and took another gulp of ale.

Cullen laughed, forgetting his problems for the moment. “I would have thought so,” he said.

Varric stared at him, amazed at the Commander’s humor about the matter. “Yeah, well, Lovely had to shove Cassandra away from me and…boy was it an ugly sight – never seen her so angry,” he sighed.

Cullen nodded, swallowing some ale as he remembered the first time he saw Finn show more than her bubbly side. That was the moment he had known her true potential – she proved herself to be strong and resourceful, as well as compassionate — the way she let her commands stride out of her mouth with such ease.0“Varric! Cullen!” a soft voice said from behind where they sat. His heart sank as he recognized the sweet and sultry tone to be Finn’s, the supple scent of lavender and vanilla wafting around him. “What are you doing over here? Come join us.”

Varric and he both spun at the same time, slowly turning to face the one they had been discussing only a few moments before. “Ah, hey there, Lovely,” Varric said, his tone quite uneasy. “To be fair, I thought you had enough company over there.”

“Yeah, if you call an endless sea of unwarranted sexual inuendos ‘company’,” Finn sighed, “Well, come on you two! Sera has a game she wants to play!”

She grabbed Cullen’s free hand; she was squeezing it gently as she tried to encourage him to follow her, motioning for Varric to follow. He stared at where she held his hand as she led him, and he found himself wishing he hadn’t worn his gloves to the tavern, even though he rid himself of most of his bulky armor – he still kept the gloves. He had wished he could feel the touch of her calloused fingers on his. She tugged him a little more, tightening her grip as they moved through the crowd, and the action made her fingers slip between his own, interlacing. Soon, Finn turned her head towards Cullen as they strode forward together, her face a half-filled grin. Her eyes glanced down at their interlocked fingers as she abruptly let go, her entire face reddening.

“Look who I found,” she stammered, gently biting her lips in nerve. Cullen finally raised his gaze from where she had held his hand and saw the table erupt into a loud greeting at the sight of the two she had dragged over. “Go on, make room,” she was encouraging from beside him, and the mercenaries shifted so that two more chairs could be added.

Varric slumped into his chair, resigned to what was happening, and Finn gave Cullen a small push toward his seat. Her touch was like fire against his waist. She urged him to sit next to her, and so he did, their thighs almost touching on the extended bench. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Sera!” Finn roared – she was tipsy, her body lightly swaying closer and closer to Cullen’s, almost leaning on him. Sera’s eyes perked up as she heard Finn’s voice, “You going to explain this ‘amazing’ game of yours?” She took a large swig of her ale and slammed it on the table as light cheers erupted.

“Right! We’ve got this game, yeah?” Sera began, her drunkness was apparent. “Friends and all that. We all get absolutely pissed and play a few rounds of ‘do that.’”

“I’m not sure you have that right, Buttercup. The game is supposed to have truths,” Varric said, his rough laugh echoing.

“Where’s the fun in that! It’s more fun to be able to make people streak!”

And so they drank.

Finn was able to down several bottles of ale before tapping out; she had drunken the most out of all of them, even Bull – who had been surprised at her tolerance.

Now they all sat, laughing and giggling away, telling the other’s what to do. Sera had been the first to go, making Varric relieve himself of his shirt to reveal his absurdly hairy chest. Dorian was forced to drink the worst beer in the tavern. They continued to drink while they made each other do things, the tavern had died down, all that remained was their mismatched group.

“Lady Inquisyyyyy,” Sera toyed, she had been the drunkest out of them all. Finn lifted her head from her bottle as she eyed Sera, whose face was filled with mischief, “Time to spice this up, yeah? Gimme a kiss,” Sera outstretched her arms as she fiddled her hands around. Finn said nothing; she had been far too drunk, she only smiled coyly as she crawled up the bench, knees on the seat as she stretched her body across the table, one hand planted on the wood, the other reaching for Sera. Soon Sera did the same, her body outstretched across the table as Finn roughly grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. 

They held for a long while, the sounds of lust echoing through the tavern. Varric and Bull had been very interested, whoops and cheers coming from them. Finn’s bottom had only been inches from Cullen’s face, the supple curve of her hips, the way her breasts still held their perky shape as they dangled down toward the table. He was unsure of which to watch – the gentle swaying of Finn’s hips or the passionate kiss between her and Sera. He would be lying if he said he was not even a little jealous, the way she passionately grasped onto Sera had made him question if they had become romantic. He shook the thought.

Soon the two broke, Finn then plopping back down next to Cullen. Her eyes wandered away and watched Cullen, their eyes meeting as hers went wide – looking guilty. She abruptly turned her head away, her ears and cheeks bright red.

Cullen glanced away as he caught Varric staring – who had seen the display between the two. He gave him a broad smile and wiggled his eyebrows, which caused Cullen to delve deep into the drink.

The night continued as they played their game – the dares becoming more and more mundane as the night went on. Eventually, all those left were Varric, Finn, and Cullen, who sat in silence as they sipped their ale. Finn soon finished her bottle and gently placing it on the table as she stood. Cullen watched as she stood – her hair brushing against him as she swayed back and forth – unable to keep her balance.

“Hang on there, Lovely,” Varric said, standing up and grasping onto her arm. “I still got one last dare for you.” Varric’s eyes focused on Cullen, who had been preparing himself for her fall, he had become worried.

“Go for it,” She slurred, slapping Varric’s back.

“The Commander here is going to walk you back to your chambers – nice and slowly,” Cullen opened his mouth in protest, with which Varric interjected by raising his hand and tilting his head towards Finn, hoping to show him just how drunk she was.

He then remembered the men who had been giving her close attention – what would stop them from taking advantage of their incredibly beautiful yet drunk Inquisitor?

“Very well,” Cullen said, standing. He grasped Finn’s arm and draped it over his shoulder, practically lifting her from the ground. Finn had said nothing in retaliation, only looking up at him and giving a weak and shy smile.

Cullen could see the redness in her cheeks, which he had written off as her drunkenness. They slowly but surely made their way out of the tavern and up the stairs into the main fortress, and soon her chamber door.

Cullen grasped the arm that was wrapped around him and untied himself from her, opening her door lightly. “There you are, Inquisitor,” His tone was professional – despite being tipsy.

“Ah,” Finn sighed as she stared down the hall, then noticing the many more steps she had. “Would it be – too much to ask?” She said. She had returned to her reclusive attitude toward him, her eyes averting before contact with his, the gentle nervous biting of her lip. Cullen nodded, once again wrapping her around him and bringing her up through her chambers, placing her on the edge of her bed.

Finn nodded in thanks, and she began untying her boots and breeches, and before Cullen could see her fully undressed, he turned his body away and started heading for the door – but not before Finn grasped onto his forearm and hoisted herself up, planting a lingering and gentle kiss upon his cheek.


	11. The Invitation

Cullen leaned against the wall, his breath coming to him in gasping pants. His head was searing painfully, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He could still feel the tender touch of Finn’s lips against his cheek – the scent of foul-smelling ale creeping on her breath, the warmth of her face. It had conjured memories, memories he thought he had buried, and he was trying desperately to push them back into the recesses of his mind. He stood there outside of Finn’s chambers still catching himself.

Finn had collapsed onto her bed momentarily after kissing his cheek – Cullen had felt the sudden urge to scurry away, but she had still been wearing her boots and was positioned uncomfortably on her bed. He had made sure to remove her clunky boots before he scooted her legs onto her bed, placing a giant feather pillow under her head and covering her with a red velvet blanket.

During those moments, he had found himself watching her intently – she would smile in her slumber, soft mumbles escaping her breathes. But during those moments where she had seemed to be entirely at peace, he could also feel a side of vulnerability and fear in her slumber, the way her fingers twitched frantically; it had reminded him of her rest after Haven.

Now – he still stood outside her chambers, the morning air creeping in through the foundation cracks of the fortress, the gentle hum of birds slipping into his ears as he composed himself and headed for his chambers.

As soon as he stepped outside, however, he found himself feeling dull pulses through his body as the gentle sunlight beamed down. Cullen hadn’t felt like this in so long – he had been doing well at Haven, only the occasional ache through his bones, minor irritation coursing through him. Now, his memories had been stirred – the faint feeling of desire creeping into his veins, his body rippling through moments of trauma. He leaned against the stone of the battlements and covered his eyes with his hand, taking steadying breaths.

Eventually, he found himself lounged out around his desk – he hadn’t remembered moving from his spot outside the battlements, not to mention finding himself within his chambers in a fresh set of clothing. 

He already had a stack of reports for the day; he was exhausted and did not want to go through them. He rested his head in the palm of his hand as he shifted through an endless plethora of letters. More and more requests coming in for the Herald of Adnraste, now Inquisitor, wanting to meet her. Several letters from the nobles in Val Royeaux, scented with perfumes that made his nose tingle when finally he found himself holding a report from Inquisition forces within the Free Marches – Ostwick.

_Dear Lady Josephine Montiliyet _

_I am contacting you concerning my daughter, the Lady Seraphina Trevelyan, and her role within your Inquisition. _

_I have only received little to no word on her well-being, and have heard troubling news from one of her close confidants – that the given location of her seems to be nothing but mountains. _

As Cullen continued to read, he found himself realizing the letter had been delivered improperly but continued anyways – the message regarded their young Inquisitor who had given him an intimate moment just hours before.

_I request that I be allowed to visit wherever your current stronghold is and speak to my daughter – I urge you to accept this request. _

_Bann Ethor Trevelyan_

Cullen read the letter with sincere intent, Finn had never talked about her father much – only stating that he was an ass. Cullen could tell from the message that the man seemed no better than the prestigious lords of Orlais, able to feel the arrogance emanating from the letter.

He had wanted to respond – tell him he was not welcome. His gut had told him that Finn would not allow such a thing, he could remember the gleam in her eyes when asked about her father – the pure hatred emanating from her.

However – it was not his decision to make. He made his way to Josephine’s office, plopping the report down onto her desk, scattering neatly tidied papers and quill pens aside.

Josephine hardly moved, her fingers dancer across the letter she had already been writing as if she had not even noticed Cullen’s entry. Cullen waited, watching her fingers tightly squeeze onto her pen, as she finally stopped.

“What can I do for you, Commander?” She said, slightly huffing, “A misplaced letter – addressed to you,” He replied, darting his eyes from the letter to her. Josephine delicately picked it up and skimmed through its contents, gently smiling. “I am happy that he has finally written back – this will surely benefit the Inquisition greatly,” She said, peeling another piece of paper out from her desk, beginning to write.

“How so?” Cullen asked he had never understood the ways of the nobility – why it had even mattered if they had their support or not. “House Trevelyan is highly regarded within the Chantry – while the Inquisitor is a Trevelyan, her presence was not near enough to gain the Chantry’s respect and attention – but the entirety of house Trevelyan showing their support? That would surely turn some heads,” She smiled lightly as she continued to compose a letter. Cullen watched her intently; he was unsure if agreeing to the Bann’s requests was wise – seeing how demanding the message had been.

“Is it wise of us to accept this matter before consulting Lady Seraphina? It is her family, after all.”

“My job is exactly this – working with esteemed families and organizations on behalf of the Inquisition – I’m sure she won’t be troubled by her own family, no?” Josephine hardly lifted her head as she spoke, gently blowing on her finished writing, and beginning to fold it. Cullen only nodded and went on his way.

He could not help but feel a sliver of guilt as he strode away from Josephine’s office, the sounds of chattering throughout the Main Hall had been echoing through his head as his heartbeat through his chest – it very well could have been the lack of lyrium – or that he knew deep down the wavering relationship the Inquisitor had with her family.

* * *

Finn was outraged – their abrupt war council had proved to be filled with information she couldn’t bear to listen to. Not only was the situation with Crestwood – where she would be traveling to in just a few weeks – was delicate, but now, Josephine had requested her father’s presence within Skyhold without consulting with her first.

She had shown her disdain towards Josephine, the heating glares across the war table, the snide remarks. It had taken almost all of her self control not to lash out, to keep the delicate knife on her waist.

Three weeks.

Her father would be there in three weeks. No matter what she would do, she would never be able to prepare for his visit. No one had understood the precarious relationship between the two – mostly because she had kept that part of her life quiet, not even Dorian had known of him.

Finn had informed her council that she would be leaving in two weeks for Crestwood – in the hope of being there long enough for her father to be gone by the time she would return. She did not have time to deal with the petty family drama - to deal with the repercussions of her poor actions before her journey to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

After their council, Finn had stormed out of the room, not before Cullen had grasped her by the arm just a tad too tightly, which made her whip her body around and glared at him even more intensely than she did Josephine.

It wasn’t the fact that Cullen had been trying to comfort her – that much was clear. It was the brutish strength that reminded her so much of her father’s touch; the fear had risen within her stomach, her defense mechanism kicking in.

There was no denying that Cullen had been hurt by the insidious glare she had given him or the abruptness in her plans for Crestwood. She had a sliver of hope he would find her later – she had appreciated his company the night before, and could so clearly remember the way the prickle of his facial hair felt on her lips.

However, she had felt that she had grown too attached to him. She would never allow herself to lower her guard for anyone – which she had so clearly done the night before. While she regretted showing just how weak she indeed was, she couldn’t help but wish for more.


	12. According to Plan

Finn’s ideas did not go according to plan – Josephine and Leliana had cornered her into staying until after her father’s attendance, they had more pressing matters to address before her excursion to Crestwood.

Which they weren’t lying, they had begun their planning and plotting towards the danger of Empress Celene, her life surely at risk in the coming days. How soon, however, they did not know. They spent days writing to the noble lords of Orlais to procure an invitation to an upcoming ball – which all of them believe to be a perfect opportunity to strike. Acquiring the invitations, however, had been much more complicated than Finn had expected – with the looming civil war broken throughout Orlais, it was almost impossible to find trustworthy allies, not to mention their ridiculous requests.

They had spent the following weeks entertaining lords and ladies who had wished to visit Skyhold and meet the illustrious Inquisitor in person – Finn did not entirely mind, she had understood that ways of courtly intrigue and were able to keep up with the appearances. What she did mind, however, were the unwarranted advances towards her Commander. She could hear the whispers within the halls – the Orlesian lords and ladies hoping to get a taste of the gruff Commander.

Finn would be lying if she was not even a little jealous – her and Cullen had grown closer during those weeks, they would spend time playing chess – a sport that Finn was quite good at, but she would throw their games as she loved to see his victorious smile and hear his confident laugh.

It had made her feel good – and she could see that it made him feel the same – she did not mind letting him win, it gave her the small moments to enjoy his features, her stomach always flittering.

* * *

The excitement had died down within Skyhold – the remaining lords and ladies had left, leaving Finn with a free afternoon to gather her thoughts. They had received word her father would be arriving within a few days – she felt the sudden urge to run away, disappear forever – but her advisors assured her that there was momentary stability around, and she deserved a break.

She found herself within Skyhold’s makeshift training grounds, amidst a group of young recruits training with each other – blending into the crowd she began whipping knives at targets – something she always worked towards, she needed to be quicker. Each flick of her wrist sent the blade flying, never missing her mark as it would sink right into her targets. As she began traipsing back and forth to reclaim her thrown blades, she felt a broad shadow across her back.

She whipped her body around as she grasped tightly onto her blade – placing it right against the throat of the figure.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen huffed, his eyes wide with shock, “It’s nice to see you haven’t lost your touch,” His look of fright dispersed into a slight smirk as he gently pushed the blade away from his throat.

“Those are fighting words, Commander,” Finn joked, twirling the blade around her fingers. “Would you?” Finn said, backing her body away, positioning her legs to be lightly spread and squatted. Cullen nodded as he did the same – his stature; however, did not give him any ease entering his stance; he was a massive opponent. Finn had noticed this as he called for a blade and shield, he would likely be slow – much to Finn’s advantage.

Before anyone around knew it, a battle ensued. Soldiers began making way for the chaos between the two as they maneuvered around each other in significant steps. Finn had eluded to Cullen that her movements were clunky – however, in her mind, each step was a step towards tricking her opponent. Cullen seemed to believe this façade as he falsely swung where he thought Finn’s next step would be; instead, her body went in the opposite direction, brushing gently across his body as she flipped her blade, jabbing him with the hilt.

Cullen stumbled forward – his hair becoming disheveled. He began to strike again – this time using the force of his shield; however, Finn was able to jump back in time. Once he saw that she had dodged his attack, he charged forward, as he reached her body Finn shrunk her body down, one leg keeping her positioned in a tight squat as her other stretched out across towards Cullen’s leg – making him lose his balance.

Cullen fumbled ever so lightly as Finn stood, steadying herself for her next attack. The time for evasive maneuvers was over – she sprinted her body towards his as he shoved his shield out to her – the impact sent her body into the ground, where she lay for a few moments catching her breath.

Cullen watched with worry as he tossed his shield aside and headed toward Finn – who, in one swift motion, hurled her body upwards into a standing stance.

Once she was back on her feet, the two began their sparring – Finn had been much quicker than Cullen had expected, her body able to spin around him in one brief moment, slightly enraged at each tap of her blade on his back. Soon, he was able to knock the knife out of her hand as he began advancing on her – each attack she dodged, her body twisting and turning before his blunted blade could touch her.

Before either of them knew it, Finn whipped the spare dagger from her waist as she grasped Cullen’s free hand – pointing the blade right at his throat.

They both were panting as they put aside their weapons, tapping each other on the shoulder. Finn’s face had reddened more than it was upon seeing Cullen’s face – wide-eyed and impressed, a look of desire upon his lips. His neat hair had become disheveled, the curls drooping down upon his forehead, some strands sticking to his sweat.

“Not bad, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, placing his hand on his hip smirking lightly. Finn nodded in agreement, still trying to catch her breath. “It’s quite a shame you aren’t as good at fighting as you are at chess,” Finn quipped, slapping him on the back.

In response, Cullen beckoned the former recruit to give him another blade – which he did, then ensuing Cullen to enter back into his fighting stance. Finn had done the same, laughing all the while as they continued to spar.

* * *

After her sparring match with the Commander – who she had bested two of their three matches – she had found herself among Mother Giselle, urging her to misguide Dorian into a meeting with a family retainer. Instead, she had taken the letter directly to him, where he forced them to embark towards Redcliffe immediately – Finn hadn’t minded, she had wanted reason to leave Skyhold before her father had arrived, and this gave her an excuse to be gone for several days – hoping to miss her father’s attendance entirely.

It had become the late afternoon, she and Dorian lay side by side, their heads perched against feather pillows leaned against the edge of the tree. Cassandra had joined them, as well as Bull, who were both spending their time obtaining firewood and cleaning up from their dinner.

“What is it with you and your family?” Finn said, her hand outstretched towards the sky – as if she were trying to grasp the stars.

“You know – father and son disagreements, marriage, blood magic – the usual,” Dorian quipped, his tone was snarky and sarcastic – however, Finn could see the pain behind his eyes.

“And what of you and your family? You hardly speak of them, and when the news of your father’s arrival came, you just about jumped off of Skyhold’s battlements,” Finn sighed as Dorian spoke, lifting her body and beginning to sit crisscrossed as her fingers picked at the grass.

“Oh, you know – torch branding and general distaste – _the usual_,” Finn mocked, Dorian replied in a huff as he turned his body away. They stayed like that for some time, Finn gently plucking pieces of grass and tossing them to the side – Dorian turned away in a sulking manner.

“I fear what you will think of me after this,” He sighed. Finn could see the frown developing on his face, the gentle curve fading away as his face looked away. “We all have family issues, Dorian. I’m the last person to judge you,” Finn replied, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He perched himself upwards and faced her, “Truly?” His eyes were gently gleaming as he grasped Finn’s hand in his, placing a supple kiss onto her knuckles.

“You are a true friend, my dear,” Dorian smiled, resting his head on her shoulder, Finn soon placing hers atop of his.


End file.
